


In Which Kurt Gets Kidnapped

by shamelessly_mkp



Series: The FabFather [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, blaine is totally a mob!boss, everything is better with the mob!prefix, heteronormativity is sometimes my kink, terrible terrible AUs, true love!!11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-10
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 02:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessly_mkp/pseuds/shamelessly_mkp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kurt gets kidnapped, only not really, and Things Happen.  Of a romantical nature.<br/>(wherein our crack develops FEELINGS)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> part of the FabFather 'verse. Just as ridiculous as it sounds. Not entirely my fault. (jst_klo is also to blame.)

 "Did you see that?" Not giving Finn a chance to answer, Rachel started dragging him to the choir room.    
  
Finn was a little confused. "Did -- did Kurt just get kidnapped?"   
  
Of course, he didn't manage to get this out until they were in earshot of all the other gleeks.   
  
"What?" Mr. Schuester said.    
  
There was pandemonium, as the gleeks tossed around increasingly ridiculous conspiracy theories on the part of other glee clubs. Puck and Santana were arguing for a counterstrike, and Rachel was explaining the layout of Carnel, when Finn, surprisingly, interrupted. "Um, guys? Not that Vocal Adrenaline isn't evil, because they are. Really evil. But ... Kurt's boyfriend is, like, a crime lord -- no offense, Blaine --"   
  
"None taken," Blaine said from the corner where he was calmly texting. "Although, strictly speaking, I'm only a crime lord in training."   
  
"-- Right," Finn said. "Anyway, don't mobs fight each other and stuff?" He grew a bit panicky. "Oh my God. What if they kill Kurt?"   
  
"Nah," Santana said, filing her nails in an attempt to look nonchalant. "They're far more likely to use him as a hostage to blackmail Anderson and his family."   
  
"Kurt would be a terrible hostage," Artie said. Most people nodded, but Brittany frowned.   
  
"He's an awesome hostage," she said. "He, like, asks you what you want to drink and if you're hungry and he even makes cookies if you really want them."   
  
Everyone looked at Brittany for a moment, and then decided not to even bother.   
  
"What am I going to tell Mom and Burt?" Finn moaned. "How do I tell them that I let my little brother get kidnapped by mobsters?"   
  
"You know," Blaine interjected, "Kurt is actually several months older than you. He's told you that quite a few times."   
  
"Yeah, but I'm bigger," Finn said. "So he's my little brother."   
  
"We should call the police," Rachel said.   
  
"What are they going to do?" Quinn asked, arms crossed. "This is the mob, remember?"   
  
"I'm with Rachel on this one," Mr. Schuester said. "I know you guys like to do things on your own, but if Kurt really has been kidnapped, then it's a matter for the police."   
  
"You can't trust the police," Puck said.   
  
("Puck, the police are not out to get you." "Oh yeah?" He points to himself. "Juvie." "You drove a car into an ATM, Puck." "Details.")   
  
Somewhere behind them all, Blaine sighed. "Guys?"   
  
They were involved in this new argument, and paid him no attention. Blaine sighed again, and, pocketing his cell phone and grabbing his bag, he went and tapped Mercedes on the shoulder.   
  
"What?" Mercedes said, distracted from the hubbub. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed just how calm and unaffected Blaine looked. "Boy, why the hell are you not freaking out like the rest of us? It's your boo that got kidnapped!"   
  
Blaine looked like he very much wanted to roll his eyes but was too genteel to do so. "Kurt's fine," he said.   
  
"How do you know?" Mercedes demanded.   
  
"Because," Blaine said, "He wasn't actually kidnapped."   
  
"Are you kidding me?"   
  
"No, really." Blaine looked at Mercedes. Clearly, she still wasn't sure if she trusted him or not. Blaine sighed again. "Look," he said, "I have to go; I've got a meeting, so if you could just get them to talk to Mr. Hummel, I think you'll find that everything is perfectly fine."   
  
Mercedes looked like she was about to object.   
  
"And anyway," Blaine said, not above manipulation (he was a mob boss in training, after all), "If Kurt really is in trouble the way you all seem to think, shouldn't you inform his parents before you do anything else?"   
  
***   
  
"Alright, since I am clearly the superior leader in this group, I should be the one to inform Mr. Hummel of his son's unfortunate kidnapping and possible execution," Rachel said as the members of New Directions regrouped outside of the Hudmel household.   
  
"Um, shouldn't Finn do it, since Kurt's his brother, and he kind of promised Mr. H. that he'd look out for him?" Mercedes asked, putting a hand on her hip and glaring at Finn pointedly.   
  
"Hey, no way. Burt just got over being mad at me from the last time...and the time before that. Do you know how awkward it'll be watching the Superbowl with him if he's mad at me again? Plus, it'll make my mom all upset..." He finished, scuffing his shoe against the sidewalk.   
  
"I'll do it!" Brittany said, bouncing up and down in excitement. "I bet Kurt's dad'll be really glad he got a job where he gets to fly everywhere!"   
  
"...Well, now that we've once again established that Brittany missed a few crucial episodes of Mister Rogers as a kid, may I suggest we figure out what we're doing?" Rachel said, tapping her foot impatiently.   
  
"For once, I agree with Berry," Santana said, snapping her gum while she spoke. "Also, while we've been standing here, the kidnappers have probably already shaved off Hummel's eyebrows, or whatever they do to gay guys when they kidnap them."   
  
"Oh sweet Jesus, they're gonna destroy his clothing." Mercedes said, putting her hand over her heart in shock. "He wore that new McQueen jacket today, too...If they mess up the stitching, he'll have a nervous breakdown..."   
  
"Guys? Here's an idea," Mr. Schue said as he walked up from where he had just gotten out of his car. "How about when I say 'Wait a minute, I'll come along to talk to Kurt's dad', you actually wait instead of just running out of the room the moment I turn my back?" Giving the group of kids his best 'Disappointed' face, he made his way through the small crowd to knock on the door.   
  
"Mr. Schue! Kids! To what do I owe the honor?" Burt asked as he swung the door open, smiling at the group on his steps. "Well, aside from you, Finn. I know why you're here...Not sure why you made your friends wait outside when you've got a key, but hey, I won't ask." He motioned them all inside, not seeming to notice how uncomfortable they all looked.   
  
"Where's Kurt? Off with Blaine again, huh? I swear, I don't know how that kid's passing his classes with as much as he's out...Then again, I was the same way with his mom, so he gets it honest I guess." Burt said, chuckling and shaking his head fondly.   
  
"Mr. Hummel, we think Kurt's been kidnapped." Will blurted out, slapping his hand over his mouth afterwards, shocked at how abruptly the news had slipped out. Realizing he didn't really have a choice but to continue, he lowered his hand and took a deep breath.   
  
"Rachel and Finn saw two rather large men grab Kurt when he walked out to his car between classes. We're not sure where they took him, but he's not answering texts from anyone, and no one has seen Anthony since this morning." He sighed, putting a hand on Burt's shoulder, squeezing in what he hoped was a comforting manner.   
  
"...Um...Burt?" Finn asked, raising his hand as if in class. "I just wanna say...I totally woulda stopped those guys, but they were like...Two of me...and a half."   
  
Burt nodded slowly, looking between the members of New Directions for a minute before pulling out his phone and dialing Kurt's cell phone, smiling as his son picked up. "Hey kid...Yeah, everything's fine...I hear you got kidnapped, though...No, he didn't, but Finn and Mr. Schue and everyone else did...No, I'm not kidding...I'm serious! I'm lookin' at all of 'em right now; you'd think their puppy got run over...Oh...Really? Time for that already, huh?" He whistled softly, shaking his head slightly. "You're in for the long haul now, kid...Yeah, I'll let you go. Say hello for me, I wouldn't wanna get on her bad side...Yeah, you too. Bye, kiddo."   
  
He hung up, putting his phone back in his pocked before looking at the group in front of him. "Kurt says to tell you all that, and this is straight from the horse's mouth, you're a group of meddling busy-bodies that puts the Mystery Inc. gang to shame and that clearly the entire group's IQ drops in to the negatives when he's not around."   
  
"If our IQ was in the negatives, wouldn't we get frostbite?" Brittany asked, shivering slightly.   
  
Burt shook his head at the blonde before continuing on. "Kurt also said to tell you all that he won't be home until later tonight, so he'll talk to you all tomorrow." When none of the kids seemed to get the hint, Burt sighed. "That means 'go home', guys. He's fine." As they stood up and filed out the door slowly, Will stayed behind.   
  
"If he's fine, why didn't he answer when any of the other kids texted him?" He asked, frowning at Burt slightly, wanting to understand the situation completely.   
  
"Because he's having tea with Blaine's mother," Burt said, laughing softly and shaking his head. "Apparently, she's the head honcho of all this mob business, so Kurt didn't wanna tick her off. Only reason he answered for me is because he was afraid something was wrong."   
  
Will blinked in surprise, least of which was at Burt's seemingly easy acceptance of Kurt having tea with a mobster's wife. "And you're okay with him having tea with the head honcho? Really?"   
  
Burt looked at him, winking slightly. "How do you think they knew which car to be waiting at? Anthony told me this was gonna happen a week ago so I could sign a note letting him out of school early." Patting Will on the shoulder as he walked him to the door, Burt laughed. "Everybody's gotta meet the in-laws sometime, Schue."   
  
***   
  
Melissa had tried to be patient. She had waited through Blaine dancing around the house with a love-struck look on his face, through him pacing the hallways trying to come up with ways to ask Kurt out, through his transfer to McKinley (she still shuddered to think of all his years of private school education going to waste at the hands of the Ohio public school system, but what could she do). If you asked her, she had given her son all the time in the world to bring this new boyfriend home to meet her. The fact that he hadn't, even though she had been more than patient, left her only one choice:   
  
If Blaine wasn't going to bring her Kurt, then she'd send someone to get him herself.   
  
Admittedly, she probably should have told Blaine she was having his boyfriend pulled out of school in the middle of the day. And it might have been a good idea to ask him exactly what Kurt knew in regards to their family's business endeavors, but she would have assumed that if Blaine was willing to follow the boy from Dalton to McKinley, he was willing to tell him that they were getting engaged.   
  
Clearly, she overestimated her son's level of willingness. Otherwise she wouldn't be in the situation she was in now: Holding out a silver handgun to a very confused sixteen year old boy.   
  
"I'm...It's nice?" Kurt said helplessly, smiling slightly and shrugging. "I'm not really a big fan of guns, though...My dad is, you two will have to get together sometime and talk about them, maybe...I mean, he has a shotgun, it's nothing like this, but still. A gun is a gun, right?" He asked, smiling at her hopefully.   
  
"That would be where you're wrong, Kurt." Melissa said, setting the gun down on the table between them. "This gun has been in the Anderson family since the latter half of the nineteenth century. It was handcrafted as a gift for the wife of Maxwell Anderson, the first official head of the Anderson family business. Since then, it's been passed down to every woman that was engaged to marry into this family, without fail. Blaine's grandmother, Augusta, gave it to me when his father proposed...Now it's my turn to give it to you, seeing as you and Blaine are sure to be engaged sooner rather than later." She pushed it across the table to him, watching his face closely. "I'm afraid the holster for it fell apart ages ago, but we have a leathersmith on call who can make one specific to your height and dominant hand whenever you're ready. I've also taken the liberty of having a concealed carrying permit drawn up for you. I've given it to Anthony to hold on to for the time being."   
  
Kurt nodded slightly, staring down at the gun with wide eyes. "So...This gun...Means I'm marrying Blaine...That...That we're engaged?" He asked, finally looking up and making eye contact with Melissa, who laughed softly.   
  
"Of course it does. We need to get you trained in marksmanship before the wedding, don't we? I mean, granted, it's been quite a long time since an Anderson wedding got interrupted by a gunfight...Lately, it's just been drunken best men who ruin things," she added, frowning slightly. "But still, the tradition is that you get this gun when you get engaged so that you have time to get used to it so that it can be hiding in your garter belt on your wedding day, just in case."    
  
She paused, looking at Kurt thoughtly. "Though, to be fair, I'm not sure where we'll hide it with you, since you won't have a garter belt...Possibly inside of your suit jacket...Of course that would depend on the suit...Have you thought about what designer you'll want to wear? I have a few contacts at Dolce who could possibly make you something custom with an extra pocket to hide it in...That might be too bulky, though..."   
  
Kurt stood up abruptly, his face paler than normal. "Mrs. Anderson, I'm terribly sorry to run off like this, but I just remembered that my brother and I are hosting a movie night for the members of New Directions. If I don't leave now, Finn will probably try and cook for them, which would be an unmitigated disaster. If you'll excuse me..." He picked up the gun awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do with it. "I...Um..."   
  
"I kept it in one of my boots until I got a holster," Melissa supplied helpfully, watching Kurt as he fumbled around with the handgun. No need to tell him that it wasn't loaded (and wouldn't be, until she knew he wasn't going to accidentally kill someone), he could figure it out by himself. "And of course, I understand completely. I once left Blaine's father alone in the kitchen while I went to put Emma down for a nap? I was gone no more than five minutes, and came back to not only a completely flooded kitchen, but to a husband in need of stitches..." She stood up as well, walking with Kurt to the door. "We'll have to do this again, Kurt. You're going to have a lot of learning to do before you and Blaine head down the aisle. What do you say to weekly lessons? Would Thursdays directly after school work for you?"   
  
"I...Sure...That sounds lovely," Kurt said, smiling weakly and waving goodbye, practically sprinting out the door to the car that had driven him to the mansion.   
  
Melissa sighed, shaking her head slightly. "You can come out from where you’re skulking, Anthony...You're going to need to drive him home, anyways."   
  
Anthony stepped out from around the corner, nodding towards the car. "He's a good kid, Boss Lady...Good grades, good friends, decent head on his shoulders...Nice family, from what I've seen of 'em, mainly his dad an' his stepbrother so far. He's a tiny little thing, but Boss Junior's not really the next jolly green giant, so that works out..."   
  
"He's weak," Melissa said shortly, turning to face Anthony. "If the idea of getting engaged to my son is enough to make him look like he's seen a ghost, what happens when he actually has to get his hands dirty and fight? What if he gets kidnapped by someone who isn't family? He'll be the easiest torture victim in the history of this family. One well-placed poke would have him spilling every secret he knew, and probably inventing some others!"   
  
Anthony tilted his head to the side slightly, not wanting to completely disagree with her, lest it got him fired. "I think he just needs time, Boss Lady. You haven't seen him around some of those jocks at McKinley. He might not be good with a gun yet, but he can sure take 'em down a peg or two when he feels like it, just by glaring at 'em...Lot like somebody else we know." He said pointedly, stepping around her and nodding slightly. "I'll be heading home for the night after I drop Mr. Hummel off, if it's all the same to you, ma'am."   
  
"That's fine, Anthony. Thank you for your help getting everything arranged for today," she said, waiting until he had started walking to the car to shut the door. She headed back to the living room, frowning as she saw her phone flashing to signal that she had missed two text messages.   
  
_Can you please, please, PLEEEEEEEASE talk to Dad? He's being ridiculous about us flying home tonight. So what if it's two am in Singapore and we've been up since yesterday morning? I was supposed to take Kurt to the movies tonight; he'll think I skipped out on him on purpose! Please, Mom? -B.  
  
You are about to be short one child if your son doesn't stop bugging me about getting home to see his boyfriend, Melissa. Speaking of, how did meeting him go? From the way Blaine's going on about him, I expect to hear nothing but good things. He must be something special, I've threatened to take away Blaine's key to the shooting range twice and he's still talking about him. I'm going to go put in some earplugs and go to sleep. Love you, darling. -D._   
  
Melissa sighed, sending a quick text message to both of them ( _Both of you behave and go to sleep before I take away both your keys to the shooting range. I'll see you tomorrow. -M_ .) before sitting down on the sofa again. Reading over Blaine's text again, she sighed softly.   
  
"I really hope you're stronger than you look, Kurt Hummel..."   
  
***   
  
Finn was the only one still awake when Kurt finally got home. Well, the only Hudmel, anyway.   
  
He'd been watching a surprisingly scary movie about this shark that like, ate planes, and dude. Planes are totally bigger than sharks, so this is one monster shark. So maybe he was a little on edge. Not scared, of course, because this was just some straight-to-DVD b-flick and Finn Hudson is not afraid of the dark, okay? So maybe he jumped a little when the door suddenly opened. But there is no way he screamed like a girl. (And, dude, that coming from Kurt? Truly weird, 'cause, you know, Kurt  _talked_ like a girl all the time--)   
  
"I can hear you thinking, Finn Hudson," Kurt said, hands on his hips. He looked fiercely annoyed. (Fierce was, like, the best word for Kurt ever. Besides gay. But that was offensive. Although it was also true? So sometimes it wasn't? But fierce was always okay. And Kurt was pretty much always fierce, so it worked out.)   
  
Finn winced. "But I didn't say it?" He said hesitantly. So it's not that bad, right? And there's no way Kurt actually read his mind, because, that's like, from one of Sam's comic books or something. But something about the way Kurt was looking at him made him wonder...   
  
Kurt shook his head, which worried Finn for a moment (Because he hates when he fights with Kurt; he never knows how to fix it and sometimes he doesn't even know they're fighting until Kurt tells him, and -- huh. Except for like, the make-up make-outs, that's kind of like when he's fighting with Rachel. Except  _he's_  his brother and  _she's_  his girlfriend and wait --) until he realized Kurt was trying to suppress laughter. "It's okay, Finn," he said, thankfully with only a hint of mirth. "I was just teasing you. You know, like when you deliberately mess up fashion names when talking to me?" And okay, Finn does know what Kurt's talking about, but to be fair, up until that ridiculously long car trip a few months earlier, he really just didn't remember names like Alexander McQueen. Finn still thinks Steve McQueen is cooler, but knows better than to say so in front of Kurt.   
  
A polite cough came from somewhere behind Kurt. Finn looked over Kurt's head and saw Anthony (Kurt's  _bodyguard_ , which, like, was never going to stop being cool) standing just inside the door. "I'll be going now, Mr. Hummel, Mr. Hudson--" (and the fact that Kurt's  _bodyguard_  called Finn Mr. Hudson was also never going to stop being cool) " -- but I'll be back to pick Mr. Hummel up for school tomorrow."   
  
Kurt frowned. "I thought Blaine was picking me up," he said.   
  
Finn frowned. "I thought you were giving me a ride to school," Finn said. He didn't add the  _like you usually do_  part, but he figured it was implied.   
  
Kurt sighed at him. "I told you, Finn, I have to go in early to make up a test. Blaine's picking me up so I can leave the Navigator here for you to drive to school." Kurt faltered. "Or he was," he said.   
  
Anthony looked sympathetic, which Finn thought was kind of weird for a bodyguard, particularly a  _mob_  bodyguard, but apparently all those mob movies he'd watched were less than true. "It's nothing big, Bossman," Anthony said. "His and The Boss's meeting ran late, is all, and The Boss decided they'd spend the night there and fly back in the morning. Mr. Anderson told me to tell you he's taking you out for lunch."   
  
Kurt unwound a little, but only a little. "I didn't know Blaine had a meeting today," he said guardedly.   
  
Anthony gave him a somewhat conspiratorial grin. "Between you and me, Bossman, I don't think Mr. Anderson knew either. Sometimes he gets so caught up in things that he forgets he has obligations, if you know what I mean."   
  
Kurt sighed. "Yeah," he said. "I know exactly what you mean."   
  
Finn didn't, but he guessed that didn't matter. After all, it wasn't like Blaine was his boyfriend. Because -- no. Just -- no. (Puck would probably say no homo, but Finn was learning how to be sensitive and stuff.) Anyway, he had a job to do. An important one.    
  
Keeping one eye on Kurt, who was saying goodbye to Anthony (Kurt's  _bodyguard_ ), Finn surreptitiously sent out a mass text to New Directions.  _KURT HOME. COM OVR NETIME_ .   
  
"So, how big of a cow did the group have when you, in what I'm sure was a subtle and discreet fashion, let them know that I had been kidnapped?" Kurt asked once Anthony had left. Taking off his jacket, he hung it on the coat rack by the door before coming to sit down next to Finn on the couch.   
  
"They didn't have a cow...That'd be pretty cool, though, right? If like, Tina just had a cow pop out of her? It could be like that scene in "Aliens"...only it'd be with a cow, so we'd have to call it "Cows"...You think people would watch that?" He asked, turning to look at Kurt only to draw back at the glare he was getting from his step-brother.   
  
"Finn, I know that it's hard to keep the hamster in your head spinning on the same wheel for more than thirty seconds, but if you could PLEASE try and focus, I would greatly appreciate it," Kurt seethed, trying to keep his voice down so their parents wouldn't wake up. "Now, tell me why I got a phone call from my dad telling me that all of New Directions, including Mr. Schue, was here to tell him of my unfortunate kidnapping and seemingly inevitable execution?"   
  
"Dude, could you back off on the bitchiness a little bit?" Finn asked, holding his hands up in surrender. "It's not my fault that we were worried! What would you do if you saw like, Mercedes getting dragged off like that? You'd freak out, and want to like...Well, you'd probably want to buy them new clothes first, 'cause even I could tell those suits were cheap, but still...Then you'd want to find a way to help her out, right? That's all we were trying to do, honest."   
  
Kurt sighed, leaning back against the couch and running a hand over his face tiredly. "Yeah, I guess you're right...I just...It's been a long day, Finn. A really long, really confusing day, and the whole thing with everyone worrying didn't help get rid of any confusion, you know?"   
  
"Well that's what happens when you start dating a mobster, white boy." Said a voice from the doorway, causing Kurt to lift his head up in shock (well, it wasn't _really_  shock, because Finn had sent the text to all of New Directions...including Kurt himself, but no one could ever say that Kurt Hummel didn't play along). Mercedes had made her way inside, along with Tina, Puck, Santana, Rachel, and Sam.   
  
"So, when you thought I had been kidnapped, you all came running. Now that I'm actually home, I don't even get half of the group?" Kurt asked, trying to make a joke to ease the tension he could feel from his classmates. Seeing Mercedes narrow her eyebrows, he closed his mouth quickly.   
  
"Actually, they all sent along messages for us to kick your butt for not answering their text messages earlier." Puck said, gesturing between himself and Sam. "But since I'm pretty sure your dad would beat both of us up for even thinking about it, we're just gonna glare at you while the chicks get all up in your face." Sam nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Kurt quietly.   
  
"...Okay then. You two have fun with that," Kurt said, turning away from them to face the cluster of girls in front of him (for some reason, this whole situation was making him think of "The Flight of the Valkyries", not that he would ever tell the girls that. He liked breathing, thank you very much). "Look, I know I should've answered your texts, and I know I made you all worry, but can the lecture please wait until tomorrow?"   
  
"Why should we let you off the hook?" Santana asked, putting her hand on her hip indignantly. "We've been trying to find out where you were for _hours_ , Hummel. Do you know how much booty I could've gotten with those hours?" She tsked, popping her gum and shaking her head at him. Tina stepped in front of her, crouching down so that she was at eye-level with Kurt, looking at him worriedly.   
  
"Just tell us what happened, Kurt. We'll go away after that, we promise. We're just in the dark right now. Blaine wouldn't even tell us anything aside from the fact that he was sure you were fine. Like, was this part of some weird date for you guys, or something? I mean, if that's what you two are in to, I'm not gonna judge...I mean, Mike has this thing where he likes it if I--"   
  
Kurt frowned, shaking his head and cutting her off quickly. "No! No, no no, no no. No, Tina, it wasn't...Also, I never want to know what Mike likes in that sense of the word..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair before continuing. "Guys, really, I appreciate your concern, but it was nothing." He sighed, reaching down to start unlacing the boots he had been wearing all day. "It was just something that I needed to get done, and now it's finished, and I haven't talked to Blaine since first period, and he's not going to be back until lunch time tomorrow, and I'm just really tired, okay?" He said, looking up as he finished unlacing both shoes. "Like I told Finn, it's been a long day."   
  
He reached down and pulled off his right boot, letting it fall over as he started on the left, missing the small clattering noise that occurred as it hit the ground. He didn't, however, miss the gasps from everyone in the room that happened immediately afterward. "What? I know; it fell over. Even I'm not that serious about fashion, guys. It's a boot, it'll live."    
  
Not getting an answer, Kurt looked up, then followed Tina's gaze over to where a small silver handgun had slid out of his boot when it had fallen over. He quickly reached over and grabbed it, putting it back inside the boot hastily before daring to look at any of his friends.   
  
The girls looked surprised, as was expected (even Kurt's military inspired pieces of clothing didn't come with actual weaponry). Finn looked confused, as was normal (seriously, this was the boy who thought Kurt wore clothes by Steve McQueen. Kurt wouldn't be shocked if his step-brother would now believe that all designer boots came with a built in gun holster). Puck looked jealous (he was probably daydreaming about how badass he'd look with a gun), and Sam was still glaring, apparently unaware of what had just happened.   
  
Kurt cleared his throat slightly, making everyone bring their attention back to him. He looked in between them all for a second, trying to decided what the best course of action would be in this situation. Figuring out what he wanted to say, he sat the boots to the side gently, then smiled at them all as if nothing had happened.   
  
"So, did I tell you all that I met my future Mother-in-Law today?"   
  
"Dude," Puck said. "You have a gun. You have a gun. That's kind of more interesting."   
  
Kurt smiled tightly. "I have a gun," he agreed. "And we're not talking about it."   
  
"But--"   
  
"Not talking about it."   
  
"Hummel--"   
  
"Not talking about it."   
  
"Do you at least have a concealed carry permit?"   
  
Kurt sighed. "Rachel, my boyfriend's in the mob. What do you think? And we're not talking about it.   
  
"Bro--"   
  
"Seriously, Finn,  _not talking about it_ ."   
  
The other members of New Directions exchanged glances. Clearly they weren't getting anything from Kurt about the gun thing tonight, except no comment and possibly bitchery. Mercedes wasn't even thinking about the gun anymore. She'd just replayed what Kurt had said in her head.   
  
"What do you mean, you met your future  _mother-in-law_ ?" She demanded.   
  
Kurt froze for a moment. They were all staring at him.   
  
"Did Blaine propose?" Rachel asked. "Was it romantic? Oh, are you going to try and get married here? You could be the trail-blazers of same-sex marriage in Ohio! My fathers have some very good contacts with the ACLU --"   
  
"No," Kurt cut her off. "Blaine didn't propose."   
  
"Good," Mercedes said, arms crossed. "Boy, the two of you are still in high school. You haven't even taken the SATs yet!"   
  
"Blaine didn't propose," Kurt repeated. His gaze flicked sideways. "Not exactly, anyway," he said more quietly.   
  
Finn was confused. "How could he not exactly propose? I mean, it's like proposing to a girl, right? So either he proposed or he didn't."   
  
Kurt didn't look like he wanted to talk about it, but he bit his lip and started to explain. A little. “He didn't propose,” Kurt said quietly, “But his mother seems to think it’s a done deal.” Kurt paused. "And I’m not sure she’s wrong. He didn’t propose, but – He will. Someday. When we're both ready."   
  
"Um," Tina said, breaking the awkward silence that followed. "So what's your mother-in-law like?"   
  
"Nice," Kurt said, automatically. "Scary," he added after a moment of thought, "but nice. She -- I don't know. She was nice." He frowned. "I would have liked a little forewarning, I mean, look at what I'm wearing, but all in all I think it went pretty well."   
  
"So," Sam said slowly, "You didn't know you were going to meet her? So you _were_  kidnapped. To start with, I mean."   
  
Kurt waved a hand airily. "Yeah, the Andersons do that. You get used to it. At least this time the men told me what was going on once I was in the car. When Blaine's little sister wanted to meet me I really did think I was being kidnapped."   
  
"Wait, he has a sister?" Finn asked, raising his eyebrows in shock. "Since when? I thought he was an only child."   
  
"Finn, that's because you think everyone is an only child until you see their brothers or sisters, dude." Puck said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Remember that time you thought I was on drugs because I kept telling you about my little sister breaking her arm?"   
  
"Oh...Right. My bad."   
  
"Anyways..." Mercedes said, waving a hand in annoyance at Finn and Puck. "Tell us more, boy! You can't just get yanked out of school to meet your boyfriend's mom and not tell us about it!" Tina and Rachel nodded, moving to sit in front of Kurt on the floor, looking up at him excitedly.   
  
"Oh my Gaga, I feel like I'm in a production of "Bye Bye, Birdie" right now..." Kurt mumbled as Mercedes pulled Finn off the couch in order to sit next to her BFF. "Fine. What do you all want to know? And before you ask, Puck, we're still not talking about the gun, so don't even try."   
  
"What'd she want to talk about?" Rachel asked immediately.   
  
"What's she like, aside from 'Scary, but nice'?" Tina chimed in, leaning forward and putting her chin in her hands.   
  
"Was she all blinged out with stolen jewelry?" Santana asked from where she had perched herself on the arm of the couch. "I mean, she had to at least have a big ass rock on her finger, right?"   
  
"Does she like you?" Mercedes asked, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder to get his attention first. "'Cause I don't care if she's the mob boss' wife, if she was rude to my boy, me and her'll have some words."   
  
"Was Blaine's sister hot?" Puck asked, leering slightly.   
  
"More important: Was the mom hot? Everybody knows you judge a girl's hotness by her mom, dude." Sam said, nodding sagely.   
  
Puck laughed, holding up his hand for Sam to high five him. "True facts, dude. That's why I like to check out the cougars at the super market. You know some of those old chicks have hot daughters at home waiting to get some Puckzilla."   
  
"Um, guys?" Kurt asked from where he was sitting on the couch. "You know I'm probably not the right person to judge on how hot two women were, right?" He smirked slightly. "I will say however, their fashion sense was impeccable."    
  
Kurt paused. "Also, Puck, you just asked me if a seven-year-old was hot. Just so you know."   
  
"Man," Puck said disgustedly, uncrossing and re-crossing his arms, "You sure know how to make a guy feel like a total perv, Hummel."   
  
Kurt leaned back into the soft cushions of the couch. "You are a total perv, Puckerman," He said. Pursing his lips, he considered the matter. "Blaine's mother -- she's beautiful. Elegant. She kind of walks like she's floating on air, you know? And she has perfectly manicured nails."   
  
"Hummel, you just told us a whole lot of nothing," Santana said with a scowl. "What kind of info is that?"   
  
"The kind I just gave you," Kurt said grumpily. "Fine." He thought for a moment. "She has dark hair--curly, like Blaine's. ("Wait, Blaine has curly hair?" "Yes, Finn." "But--" "He uses hair gel, Finn.") And her eyes -- I suppose they're brown, but they're this really warm color. She wasn't wearing any bling," Kurt said with a roll of his eyes. "She has far too much class for that. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only jewelry she was wearing was her wedding ring."   
  
"Yes," Rachel said impatiently, "This is all very exciting and vital information but it pales beside the significance of the subject of conversation."   
  
Kurt reached up to smooth away any fly hairs that might have come out of place in the last few minutes. "We didn't really talk about anything in particular," he said. "Not at first, anyway. I mean, she asked me about school and told me some incredibly entertaining stories about Blaine as a small child which I will now be holding over him for the rest of our lives, but really, I think she just wanted to meet me."    
  
The others were nodding, apparently satisfied, but Rachel was frowning. Considering how self-absorbed Rachel Berry could be, she was a surprisingly good listener. "You said you didn't talk about anything in particular at first," she said, slowly. "Thereby implying that you did talk about something in particular later."   
  
A hint of discomfort flashed across Kurt's face. "Yes," he said, volunteering nothing more.   
  
"So what did you talk about?" Rachel pressed.   
  
Kurt stood up somewhat abruptly. "She wanted to explain my future duties," he said, pacing the floor.   
  
"Future duties?" Mercedes asked.   
  
"Like as the mob boss's wife?" Puck asked with a smirk, just to wind Hummel up.   
  
"Yes," Kurt said after a hesitation. "Pretty much exactly like that. And now I'm going to bed. Good night." The basement door shut behind him with a very final sounding click.   
  
Kurt locked the door behind himself before he started down the steps, deciding that Finn could sleep on the couch, it served him right for calling in the troops to interrogate him. Making it down the steps to his bed, he sat down and pulled out his phone, checking the time before sending a quick text message.   
  
_What are the chances that you're awake right now? ~K  
  
Depends. Am I in some sort of trouble? If so, this text message was pre-recorded. ;)_   
  
Kurt laughed as he read the text message, shaking his head and pressing 'Talk' instead of responding. He had barely gotten to hear five seconds of Blaine's ringback ("Teenage Dream", because apparently his boyfriend was the mob world's biggest dork ever) before he heard the 'click' of the call being answered.   
  
"If this is about me not picking you up for school tomorrow, I'm sorry. I tried to get back tonight, but Dad wasn't having it." Blaine said as he answered, skipping over the pleasantries like he normally did when Kurt was the one calling him.   
  
"No, that's fine. Trust me, I get having a Dad who won't change his mind. That's why I have a bodyguard coming to pick me up in the morning, remember?" Kurt said, chuckling slightly and leaning back against the headboard of his bed. "No, I just wanted to give you a heads up that you're going to get to play a game tomorrow during glee practice..."   
  
"You know, it kind of ruins the whole game if you tell me about it beforehand, Jigsaw." Blaine said, laughing softly. When his joke was met with silence on the other end of the conversation, he sighed. "Jigsaw...The 'Saw' movies...'Let's play a game' is his catchphrase."   
  
"Oh I know," Kurt said, "I just don't know how comfortable I feel with my mob boss-to-be boyfriend comparing me to a serial killer. Especially after I met his mother today, and she gave me a handgun as a 'Welcome to the family' gift...Seems like tempting fate to me."   
  
Blaine blinked slightly in shock. "She...She gave you a handgun? What'd it look like?" He was trying to sound casual, but he was pretty sure he had missed it by a mile. Still, there was no way his mother had given Kurt the handgun he was thinking about.   
  
"It's the one you're thinking about," Kurt said simply, thinking of the gun that was currently tucked away in his boots...   
  
His boots.   
  
That were still upstairs.   
  
With the rest of New Directions.   
  
Shit.   
  
"Blaine? While you roll the fact that your mother just gave me the Anderson family equivalent of an heirloom engagement ring around in that gorgeous brain of yours, I'm gonna go make sure that Puck doesn't decide to play Rambo, okay?" He said, standing up and heading for the stairs as he spoke.   
  
"I...But...How did she--?" Blaine asked, getting cut off by Kurt talking over him.   
  
"I'll tell you tomorrow, you owe me lunch, call your mother, Emma says hi, love you, bye!" Kurt said in a rush, hitting 'End' before Blaine could reply and bolting up the stairs and through the door.   
  
"So help me Alexander, if any of you so much as  _breathed_  on those boots, I will get my bodyguard to end you."   
  
***   
  
Blaine let his cell phone fall down on the bed next to him, uncaring of where exactly it fell. His mother had given Kurt  _that_  gun? _Grandma’s_  gun? The fucking  _engagement_ gun?   
  
They hadn’t ever even talked about what they’d do when Blaine  _graduated_ , much less what they’d do for the rest of their lives. It wasn’t as though Blaine didn’t think about it — sometimes it seemed like it was all he thought about — but even though he was pretty sure Kurt felt the same, he’d never actually talked to him about it, and now his mother had gone and forced the issue.   
  
God, sometimes his parents made him so angry.   
  
A year ago, she was worried that Kurt only liked Blaine because he was the first other gay boy he’d met. (And hadn’t that helped Blaine’s self-esteem?) Six months ago, she was telling Blaine that high school romances rarely last and that it was part of his duty as the boss to be to not get other people involved in the family’s business. (As though she and dad hadn’t met in high school.) Three months ago, she was angry that Blaine wanted to switch schools and go to McKinley. (”For a  _boy_ ?” she’d said. “You want to jeopardize your education for a  _boy_ ?”) Last week, she was grilling Blaine on everything and anything to do with his relationship with Kurt (please never let the phrase “proper lubrication” come out of his mother’s mouth ever again; Blaine’s not sure he’d survive it a second time).   
  
And now she was giving her blessing? For them to get  _married_ ?   
  
“Your mother doesn’t do anything by halves,” a voice said from the doorway of Blaine’s hotel room. “You know that,” Blaine’s father said, leaning against the door frame, hands casually in his pockets.   
  
“She really doesn’t,” Blaine said, staring at the ceiling, as though it was a coded report on the business that required interpretation.   
  
“She likes him,” Blaine’s father said. “I still haven’t met him, but from what your mother says, you could do worse.” Blaine turned to look at his father, who raised an eyebrow. “And from what you say about this boy, it was only a matter of time.”   
  
While that might be true, Blaine would really have preferred to bring up the topic of marriage  _himself._   
  
His father pushed off the door frame, clearly about to leave. “And it’s good for the family,” he said, almost to himself. Of course he’s thinking about the business, Blaine thought resentfully. “Everyone will settle down a little once they know you won’t be aligning yourself with someone in the business.” He paused. “Although on the other hand, we can’t use that as a bargaining strategy anymore.”   
  
“Dad,” Blaine said. “I was  _never_  going to marry someone just to cement an alliance for the family.”   
  
Blaine’s father looked up, “Of course not,” he said, clearly surprised Blaine would even think such a thing. “But it was a useful fiction from time to time.” Okay, Blaine guessed he could understand that.   
  
What he didn’t understand was his mother. “You know, I’ve liked other boys and mom’s never been so … aggravating about any of them,” Blaine said. “She was always happy for me. So why’d she fight me dating Kurt so much?”   
  
Blaine’s father grinned. “Well, she had to make sure it was real love, didn’t she? Your mother’s a practical woman, but that doesn’t mean she’s not a romantic.”   
  
Blaine hid his face in his hands. “So she was making things difficult for me on purpose?” he asked, voice muffled. “Just to see what I’d do? Is that why she wasn’t just happy for me?”   
  
“Pretty much,” his father said.   
  
Blaine groaned. Sometimes, his mother could be so manipulative.   
  
“We are, you know,” Blaine’s father said quietly from across the room.   
  
“Are what?” Blaine asked his hands.   
  
“Happy for you.”   
  
***   
  
Kurt was out-of-sorts the whole morning. He nearly took Anthony's head off when the man tried to joke with him on the ride to school. In his second period class, Trigonometry, he took (and failed) a pop quiz, then ended up arguing with the teacher about how this would ever have anything to do with his life, which got him sent to the office for the second time in his life. By lunch time, all he wanted to do was go somewhere where he could be alone and scream. Or cry. Or hit something. Or just -- go to sleep, and forget about everything. He hadn't felt this out of control since he was being terrorized by Karkosfy, and it angered him. Being with Blaine -- being in love with Blaine -- was so easy. So simple. It wasn't supposed to make him feel like this.   
  
Kurt sighed. Blaine'd said he was taking Kurt out to lunch, which probably meant Breadstix, but could also mean any number of other, fancier restaurants. Kurt really wasn't sure he wanted to deal with that. He wanted to see Blaine -- knew once he did, everything, even the fact that Blaine's  _mother_ had apparently decided that they were getting  _married_ , would seem more manageable.    
  
They hadn't ever talked about it. Why would they? They're only in high school. It's not even legal in the state of Ohio.    
  
They hadn't ever talked about it, but Kurt had always sort of vaguely known. How could he not? Blaine had followed him to McKinley. He said stupidly romantic ridiculous things, and  _meant_  them. But so long as they didn't talk about it, they could both pretend they didn't know. As long as they didn't talk about it, Kurt could take the part of his mind that said Blaine was the one and push it aside, hide it behind fashion trends and celebrity gossip, behind Glee club drama and what movie they were going to go see. As long as they didn't talk about it, it was safe.   
  
Anthony followed Kurt to the parking lot, a huge, hulking shadow that both frustrated and reassured Kurt. Anderson bodyguards were noted for their discretion, so when Kurt finally saw Blaine, leaning up against his ridiculously expensive car, Anthony stayed a good ten feet behind him. Close enough to protect them if necessary, but far enough away to at least give the illusion of privacy. Kurt opened his mouth to greet Blaine, to say "Let's go to lunch!", but nothing came out. He saw Blaine look concerned and move toward him, but Kurt still couldn't speak. He didn't know what to say.    
  
Then Blaine's arms were around him and he was warm and safe and loved and -- "I don't want to go to lunch," Kurt said quietly into Blaine's shoulder, voice slightly muffled by the cloth.   
  
"Okay," Blaine said. He seemed calm, but Kurt could hear the worry underneath. "Then we won't go to lunch." Kurt closed his eyes and curled closer into Blaine, tucking his face into the soft skin of Blaine's neck. Dimly, he realized Blaine was talking again. "--okay? It was my mom, wasn't it? She's kind of intense, I know, and her giving you that gun must have -- I mean, when you told me, I know I was -- Just, tell me, Kurt. What can I do, baby? What do you need me to do?"   
  
Kurt ignored the fact that Blaine had called him baby. He never had before, and in the back of his mind, Kurt felt as though he ought to find the endearment embarrassing, if not offensive. But somehow it sounded different -- natural, right -- said in Blaine's low voice. It sounded ... perfect. "I just want to go home," Kurt whispered. He knew he ought to go to class, but it seemed like far too much effort. "Please just take me home."   
  
Blaine nodded, kissing the top of Kurt's head gently before pulling away slightly. "Send Mercedes a text so that she knows you're okay and that you won't be at Glee practice, alright? I need to let Anthony know what's going on, and then we'll go, okay?"   
  
Kurt nodded, pulling away from Blaine slowly and pulling out his phone. "Yeah, okay. Want me to ask her to pick up your Government homework for you while I'm at it, since you two are in class together?" He asked, needing to have something to focus more than he was worried about Blaine's grades.   
  
Blaine nodded, rubbing Kurt's shoulder gently before letting go of him and walking over to where Anthony was standing. "What the hell happened, Anthony?" He asked, keeping his voice low so that Kurt wouldn't hear him. "The last I talked to him, he was fine. Now he's a wreck."   
  
Anthony sighed, shrugging slightly and looking at Blaine like he wasn't sure how to handle the situation. He had been around the Andersons since before Blaine was born, so the boy was like a nephew to him, but that still didn't give him the freedom to say whatever he wanted. There was a code of conduct to being privy to the kind of information that he knew, and the first line of that code said that he didn't give Blaine, Emma, or anyone else information that he wasn't explicitly given permission to tell them. Keeping an eye on Kurt, he lead Blaine a few steps further away while he figured out what he wanted to say.   
  
"Alright, first of all, this conversation never happened. It's more than my job's worth to tell you, plus your mother would kill me," he said, looking Blaine in the eye to make sure he understood. Once the teen nodded, Anthony nodded over at Kurt and continued. "She wanted to see how he handles basically being told that he belongs to you no matter what. She's afraid he's too volatile, wears too much of his heart on his sleeve."   
  
"Of course he does!" Blaine insisted, glaring at Anthony slightly, breaking away from his normally composed demeanor. "If he didn't put too much of himself out there every time he opens his mouth, I wouldn't want to be with him, Anthony!" Realizing that he was starting to get louder, and not wanting to attract Kurt's attention, Blaine took a breath to calm himself down before continuing.   
  
"I have spent my whole life living around people who try their hardest not to feel anything. They push every single damn emotion that they have so far down that seeing them smile is like winning the lottery." He sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking over at Kurt, who seemed to have skipped texting Mercedes in favor of calling her.   
  
"No, I know, so then I said that the only people who even care about Trig are people who're forced to teach it because they aren't talented enough to make money as anything aside from a teacher in Podunk, Ohio," Kurt said, gesturing with the hand not holding his phone and laughing slightly as he listened to whatever Mercedes was saying in response.   
  
Blaine smiled, watching him for a minute before turning back to Anthony. "He is the first person I've met who isn't afraid to tell me when I'm going too far, or not going far enough. He can build me up with a smile or cut me down to size with a smirk. I need someone like him in my life, not some cookie-cutter mob boy who's willing to let me run things however I want just because I'm the boss. I want someone who'll scream in my face when I'm doing something wrong and scream in my face when I'm doing something right..." He trailed off, shrugging slightly.    
  
"I want him. The way he is right now. Heart on his sleeve not optional. If mom can't deal with that, then she and I'll probably be having some sort of massive blowout before it's all said and done, but I don't care. Dad got to make his choice in picking her, I'm making mine."   
  
Anthony waited, making sure the boy was finished before nodding. "Between you and me? He reminds me a lot of your mom when your parents first got together. Doesn't take no for an answer, is willing to work hard to get what he wants..." He smirked, elbowing Blaine slightly. "Has the boss-to-be wrapped around his little finger...."   
  
Blaine laughed softly, nodding without even trying to deny it. "Yeah, he certainly does...I don't know if he realizes it yet, but he does." He sighed, standing up a little straighter and nodding at Anthony, back to being the Blaine Anderson that the bodyguard was used to seeing. "Speaking of which, he wants to go home, skip out on the rest of class for today. Can you take care of that with the office while I drive him home, then just meet us there?"   
  
Anthony nodded quickly, back to business as well. "Sure thing, boss. I'll be there in about twenty minutes." Seeing Blaine shake his head slightly, Anthony tried again. "Thirty minutes?" Another shake of the head. "Boss, you know I can't just let you two fall off the map for the rest of the day. Mr. Hummel's dad alone would have my head for leaving you two alone in the house."   
  
"Just...Give us an hour, please?" Blaine asked, looking at Anthony with the closest he could get to puppy dog eyes without losing his composure. "We need to talk, and it'll be easier if we can do it with no one else around, no matter how discreet."    
  
Anthony sighed, nodding slowly. "Fine. You get an hour. I'll go by Breadstix and pick you two up something; that should give you enough time to talk..." He rolled his eyes at Blaine slightly, punching the boy on the arm gently. "You're gonna get me fired, kid."   
  
Blaine laughed, rubbing at his shoulder (Anthony's idea of gentle was about on par with Mike Tyson's). "Even if I did, Kurt would make me hire you right back, so it'd be fine." He looked at Anthony, then nodded toward his car. "I'm gonna get him home. We'll see you in an hour."   
  
Anthony nodded, turning on his heel and walking back toward the school, taking his time. Once he heard both car doors open and shut, he looked down at his watch, checking the time and putting together a likely order of events in his head as he heard Blaine pull out of the parking lot. Making up his mind as to how he wanted to do things, he turned around and headed back to his car to take a nap.   
  
He'd give them two hours. They could count it as an early wedding present.

 

 

 

 

 

  



	2. Chapter 2

Kurt was disconcertingly quiet on the ride over to his house. It wasn't just that he wasn't making conversation or singing along with the radio, which, hey, whatever; he was the kind of quiet that made you wonder if the person was still even there. Blaine didn't like it. Kurt was a naturally loud person. This quietness was unnatural, and worrying.

  
"We're here," Blaine said quietly, turning off the car. Kurt got out of the car, seemingly on autopilot. When he'd talked to Mercedes on the phone, he'd gotten some of his life back in him, but after he'd hung up, he'd faded back away. Blaine followed him up the steps and into the house, making sure to lock the door behind them, although the Hudmels generally didn't. Anthony had a (not precisely legally acquired) key, and there was no sense in taking chances.   
  
Kurt didn't look at Blaine, just made a beeline for his room. Blaine followed. Sometimes it seemed like that was all he would be doing for the rest of his life, following Kurt.   
  
“Kurt?” Blaine addressed him carefully. Kurt stopped near his bed, but didn’t turn around. Blaine moved so as to be in front of Kurt. “I think we need to talk,” Blaine said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. What if —   
  
Kurt shook his head, almost violently. Blaine could tell he was trying to hold back tears. “As if there’s a point,” Kurt said, his voice a hollow echo of disdain. Finally, he looked at Blaine. “As if it would change anything.” Blaine started to reach out for him again, but Kurt took a step back. “How is this supposed to work, Blaine?” Kurt demanded. “You’re practically a mob boss. And I’m sixteen—And you, you’re planning the rest of our lives together, and sometimes it’s like I don’t even mind.” Kurt raised his hands up almost defensively as Blaine unconsciously moved in closer. “How am I supposed to deal with this?” His voice broke, just a little. “How am I supposed to deal with being this in love with you?”   
  
Blaine was suddenly, irrationally, angry. Moving closer to Kurt again, he grabbed Kurt’s hand before he could pull away. “Feel that?” Blaine demanded, holding Kurt’s hand above his heart. “Do you see what you do to me, Kurt? God, I’m only seventeen—how am I supposed to deal with knowing that I would do  _anything_  for you?” Blaine dropped Kurt’s hand and moved back, running his fingers through his hair distractedly. “How am I supposed to deal with  _knowing_  I’ve met the love of my life? That no matter what happens, no matter what you decide, you’re always going to be the one for me?” He looked at Kurt again, eyes intense. “How am I supposed to deal with  _that,_  Kurt?”   
  
Across the room from Blaine, Kurt was crying, soundlessly; no sobs, just tears. The next thing Blaine knew, Kurt was kissing him. This wasn’t one of their usual sweet kisses, stolen in quiet moments and at the end of the night. This was violent and desperate and Blaine could taste the salt of Kurt’s tears.   
  
It was perfect.   
  
Just as quick as the kiss started, it was over. Kurt pulled back -- no, because that would mean he was still where Blaine could reach him. He had pulled  _away_ , moving back over to the other side of the room like he was reeling from a punch.   
  
To be fair, if the kiss had felt the same way for him as it had for Blaine, comparing it to a punch would be just about right. It had left the older boy short of breath, slightly dizzy, and had sent a level of adrenaline in to his veins that he could only compare to the high of his best performance. Of course, thinking of his best performance brought him back to Kurt, because serenading the "spy" had been the first moment that he could remember just letting  _go_  and having  _fun_  while singing.   
  
Who was he even trying to kid? It had nothing to do with  _how_  he sang, and everything to do with who he had been singing _for_  that made the difference. Everything in his life looped around to include Kurt, no matter how hard he fought it. Folding his socks brought him back to Kurt (imagining Kurt's insistence on doing his own laundry, despite having a maid), buying dental floss brought him back to Kurt (a blink-and-you'll-miss-it flash forward of Blaine's cool spearmint resting on the counter next to Kurt's wild cinnamon). If he could find something that didn't bring him back to Kurt, he'd be shocked. He'd also probably be a little sad, because he loved that he could connect everything in his life now to what his life would be like later, when he and Kurt--.   
  
Which was the whole problem, apparently. No, not apparently. It  _was_  a problem. It was a problem, because Kurt clearly didn't want Blaine planning where their dental floss would sit, or how their laundry was going to get done, and who could blame him? It was insane to think that two teenagers could know what they would want two months down the road, nonetheless two years. To think that they knew not only what the world would throw at them, but that no matter what it was, they would make it out together? It was stupid at best, tempting fate at the worst.   
  
Blaine sighed softly, looking up from where he had been studying his shoes as he gathered his thoughts. He watched as Kurt paced back and forth in front of his vanity, arguing to himself about "free will", and "no choice in the matter", and "this isn't Ella fucking Enchanted, she can't just say 'Marry my son' and expect me to just do it, no questions asked". Blaine smiled slightly, using Kurt's ranting to walk over to that side of the room undetected, catching the other boy's elbow gently when he got close enough.   
  
"Hey," he said softly, rubbing his thumb along the inside of Kurt's elbow in the hopes of calming him down. "Breathe, okay? Just...I don't want to say 'Calm down', because that'd be extremely patronizing, but I'm thinking it pretty hard." He watched Kurt for a second, waiting for some of the red to fade out of the boy's face before pulling him closer and wrapping his arms around him gently.   
  
"You have a choice in all of this, Kurt," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Just because my mom...Anyways, that's not binding, or anything. Nobody's going to hate you for not wanting this...Or for not wanting me..." He added, biting his lip after. He didn't want to, and it stung every inch of his heart to do it, but he had to do it. He had to give Kurt the chance to figure out that maybe he  _wasn't_ really in love with Blaine, that maybe what he felt was puppy love mixed with danger mixed with a nice dose of "too much, too soon". He closed his eyes, bracing himself to hear Kurt suddenly realize that Blaine was right, he wasn't in love.    
  
He didn't brace himself for the smack to the back of his head. Or the punch to his shoulder. Or the sharp poke that he got to his sternum (which, hey, that could do some serious damage, damn it).   
  
"What the fuck, Kurt?" He asked incredulously, ducking as another wave of punches and jabs came at him, pulling away from the younger boy and pulling the chair to Kurt's vanity in between them. "I tell you that you don't have to marry me, and you decide to punch me for it? What's that about? I'm trying to give you a way out, you idiot!"   
  
"Exactly!" Kurt said, shoving the chair aside with ease and crowding himself in to Blaine's space again, smacking him upside the head as he did. "I tell you that I'm in love with you to the point that it scares me, and you give me a way out, when supposedly you love me just as much? That's not how this works, Blaine!"   
  
Blaine growled, rolling his eyes and grabbing Kurt's hands quickly. "Okay, first of all, this whole "hitting me" thing is going to stop right fucking now. Second of all, what do you want me to do, Kurt? You were just crying ten minutes ago because we don't get a choice in how things go! I'm trying to give you what you want, here! I'm sorry for giving a damn." He huffed, dropping Kurt's hands and taking a step back. "Oh, and thanks for believing me when I told you I loved you...'Supposedly', my ass...That's low, Kurt." He mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.   
  
Kurt groaned, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. "I didn't say I wanted a choice, Blaine. If you would stop trying to be a martyr and just listen to me, you would know that." He sighed, glaring at Blaine for a second before moving so that he was standing in front of the older boy, putting a hand over his crossed arms lightly.   
  
"I don't want a choice. Even if I had known about all of this beforehand, I wouldn't want a choice." He shrugged, smiling sardonically. "It probably makes me something close to certifiable, but all I really want out of this whole mess is you...Some time to let everything sink in probably wouldn't hurt, and actually hearing you say that you want all of this as much as I do would be nice, but if I can't have all of that, and all I get is you, so be it."   
  
Blaine sighed in relief, uncrossing his arms and opening them so that Kurt could get closer. "If you're certifiable, so am I. We can be roommates at the loony bin," he said softly, jumping slightly when he felt Kurt giggle softly into his hair. "Seriously, we can share a padded room and cuddle in our straight jackets. It'll be the most twisted romance of all time."   
  
Feeling Kurt shake his head, Blaine smiled, turning to lightly press a kiss against Kurt's temple. "And by the way...I want this, Kurt. I've wanted it since before it was really even an option."   
  
Kurt pulled his head back, looking at Blaine curiously. "Before it was an option as in before you transferred?" Blaine avoided his eyes, so he pressed forward. "Before I went back to McKinley?" Still no eye contact, so he tried again. "Before we started dating?" When he realized that Blaine was all but stared at the ceiling, Kurt made a slight face, tugging on his shirt to get his attention. "How far back are we talking, Blaine?"   
  
Blaine sighed, letting go of Kurt with one hand to rub at the back of his neck nervously. "Back to the point when all I knew about you was that you were a horrible spy with a smile that made me want to move mountains." He chuckled nervously, giving Kurt a 'What can you do?' sort of smile. "I know; it's creepy. Your boyfriend's a creep. You are the future Mr. Creepy McCreeperson. Congrats on that."   
  
Kurt shrugged, leaning back against Blaine and squeezing him gently. "We're both the future Creepy McCreeperson, then...You had me hooked a 'skintight jeans'," he added in response to Blaine's pulling back to make a face at him.   
  
"I'm the future Mr. Blaine Anderson..." He said softly, once the thought caught up to him that, hey, not all of that was a joke, you really are marrying this guy at some point. "It sounds weird to say...I blame you for not having a more fabulous name." He added, kissing Blaine's jaw to show he was kidding.   
  
"Well...Okay, yeah, part of it's probably because my name's boring, but I can't really change that," he said, chuckling and rubbing Kurt's back gently. "But part of it's probably because it's not really official yet." He looked at Kurt, shrugging slightly. "I haven't actually asked, or given you a ring, or anything like that..."   
  
"Are...Are you going to?" Kurt asked, biting his lip slightly. He was torn on what he wanted Blaine's answer to be, if he was being honest with himself. Part of him wanted it to be 'yes', just so that they could get the whole thing over with without making a big fuss out of it all (plus, jewelry). On the other hand, if Blaine wanted to wait, that automatically gave Kurt some of the time he needed to process everything and it put a little distance between their first real fight and them getting engaged, since that just kind of screamed 'bad idea'.   
  
"Not right now," Blaine said, still running his hand up and down Kurt's back gently. "For starters, we just kind of got on the same page about needing some time, and if we make it official, nobody's going to want to give us that...Plus, I want you to be able to pick out your ring, or have one designed, whichever you want." He smiled, kissing Kurt's cheek. "I refuse to have our first fight as an engaged couple stem from my lack of knowledge when it comes to different cuts of diamonds."   
  
Kurt laughed, turning his head and kissing Blaine slowly, for once not needing to cut the moment short because of rushing to another class, or so that he could (technically) be inside before curfew. He could take his time to find out exactly how Blaine liked to be kissed, and held, and anything else that he felt like finding out.   
  
It wasn't like he was going to run out of time between now and forever.   
  
***   
  
Blaine wasn’t sure exactly how they’d gotten to Kurt’s bed, but he wasn’t about to complain. They were still kissing; long, slow, heady kisses that felt like they were melding together. Blaine noticed, in a small corner of his mind, that the way he was lying on the bed, twisted so his feet were still on the ground, was already kind of uncomfortable and likely to get more so, but somehow that didn’t seem very important. Kissing Kurt was. It was vital, like breathing.    
  
Kurt pulled away for a moment, disentangling Blaine’s hands from his shirt. Blaine heard an odd sound of protest escape his mouth, and would have been mortified if Kurt had given him the time to reflect on it. Kurt was off of him, standing next to the bed. His face was flushed, and there was a desperate look in his eyes. “Move,” he said, urgently. Blaine wasn’t sure what he meant. Kurt tapped Blaine’s legs impatiently. “Move,” he repeated. “Your legs are going to fall asleep and you’ll have pins and needles and that is not conducive to a proper make-out session so move.”   
  
It was kind of annoying that Kurt could still use words like conducive when Blaine wasn’t sure he could verbalize anything, but Kurt did have a point. Blaine swung his legs up onto the bed, absently hoping Kurt didn’t pick now to throw a fit about shoes on his bedspread. He didn’t. Instead, Kurt clambered on top of Blaine. He somehow even managed to do it in a somewhat graceful manner. Blaine couldn’t help but be a little irritated (he was supposed to be the smooth one, damn it) while at the same time entranced by just how beautiful his boyfriend was. Then Kurt was kissing him again and any appreciation of Kurt’s grace was sublimated by his appreciation of the weight of Kurt on top of him, the heat of Kurt’s body, Kurt’s soft seeking tongue.   
  
It was amazing. It wasn’t enough. Blaine rolled them both over, still kissing. Now he was on top of Kurt, and it was his weight pressing down, Kurt pulling him down and spreading his legs to give Blaine room. Blaine was plastered to Kurt, and it still wasn’t enough. He wanted to be closer, wanted to crawl inside Kurt’s skin and never leave. He felt hot, almost feverish. He knew he was sweating, but he didn’t care. All Blaine wanted was right there beneath him, and Kurt was _never_  going to leave.    
  
Kurt made a feral sort of sound into Blaine’s mouth, and his nails dug into Blaine’s back. Blaine pulled back for just a moment, just to catch his breath, make sure this wasn’t too fast (can’t push him he’s too important have to make sure), but Kurt just growled (which was both disconcerting and utterly  _hot_ ) and flipped them again. Now Kurt was on top again, and he wasn’t wasting any time. He was wrenching desperately at the buttons of Blaine’s shirt (why oh why had he picked today to wear a button down) and his pupils were dilated with desire. Blaine swallowed the moan trying to come out of his throat and instead batted away Kurt’s hands so he could unbutton the shirt himself. Kurt pulled his own shirt off over his head and threw it off to the side. “Kurt,” Blaine felt obligated to say, even though his voice was hoarse and cracking, “Are you sure you want to do this?” The shirt throwing was a pretty good sign, admittedly — Kurt never treated his clothes like that — but Blaine had to ask.  _Had_  to, because if Kurt wasn’t sure, he might end up regretting it, and Blaine didn’t think he could live with being one of Kurt’s regrets.   
  
Kurt made an exasperated noise. “I’m sure,” he said, tugging at the hem of Blaine’s undershirt. “Really, really sure. I am so sure there is no possible lack of surety now take your damn shirt off.” Blaine obeyed. He saw Kurt’s adam’s apple move as he swallowed nervously, and couldn’t help but let his eyes follow down past the motion to never-before-seen skin. Kurt was pale — he always was, but especially here on his chest, his stomach, where his clothes usually covered him from the sun, and Blaine suddenly knew with an aching certainty that he would be even paler further down. He would have seemed unreal, angelic, were it not for the red flush spreading unevenly over his skin. Blaine wanted to discover where the flush started and trace its path with his tongue, but he didn’t. He reached up, not quite daring to touch Kurt, not yet. Kurt rolled his eyes, somehow able to keep his ability to make Blaine feel utterly, ridiculously stupid, even when he was halfway naked. Kurt grabbed Blaine’s hand and guided it to his chest, holding Blaine’s hand against himself when Blaine instinctively tried to jerk away. “You can touch me, Blaine,” Kurt said. “I’m not going to break.” Of course he wasn’t. Kurt was so much stronger than people gave him credit for.   
  
Blaine’s eyes shut of their own volition as he felt the soft skin over Kurt’s ribs. Intellectually, he knew it couldn’t feel that different from the inside of Kurt’s wrists or the skin above Kurt’s collarbone. But it did feel different. There was something about it, the _intimacy_  of it, which called to something deep inside. And then Kurt was kissing him again, and he was holding Kurt again, but this time his hands weren’t touching the smooth fabric of Kurt’s shirt but instead his warm skin. Kurt was on top of him, pressed against him, skin on skin, and it felt so good Blaine didn’t think he could stand it. He slid one hand up to cup the back of Kurt’s neck, letting his other hand rest in the hollow of Kurt’s back, right above where their hips (oh god) were touching. The short soft hairs on the nape of Kurt’s neck tickled his hand, and Blaine laughed into the kiss. Kurt pulled back a little, an offended expression and a moue of a frown on his face. Still laughing a little, nearly breathless, Blaine moved his hand from Kurt’s neck to instead cup his cheek. “I’m not laughing at you, baby,” Blaine said, the endearment falling from his lips without thought, “I’m just — “ Blaine shook his head, smiling, as he tried to explain, “--I’m just happy.” Craning his head upward, Blaine kissed the corner of Kurt’s mouth. “So, so happy,” he repeated, in a voice barely above a whisper. And then he was kissing Kurt again.   
  
Blaine was drowning in Kurt’s kisses. He shifted, trying to get closer, then froze. God, Kurt was as hard as he was. Blaine’s hips thrust up without his ever making the decision to do so. Kurt stifled a sharp cry in Blaine’s mouth and moved just a little and then— his erection was pressed perfectly against Blaine’s, their legs intertwined. Blaine helplessly, mindlessly, rubbed against Kurt, who gasped and finally broke their kiss. Kurt was moving back against Blaine, his hips moving in small circles that felt  _so damn good._   
  
“Baby, please,” Blaine begged, not even sure what he was asking for.    
  
Kurt moaned and violently kissed Blaine again, biting his lips as he pulled away. “One day,” Kurt promised in a dark voice, “You are going to fuck the goddamn life out of me.”    
  
Blaine came, rubbing his cock against Kurt’s and gasping into Kurt’s mouth. It was ridiculous and gross and fantastic and wonderful and he couldn’t even think anymore. Distantly, Blaine noticed that Kurt was still moving against him, quick, desperate little thrusts. Fighting against his post-orgasm stupor, Blaine used one of his hands to guide Kurt’s thrusts - he wasn’t going to break if Kurt fucked his leg the way Blaine knew he wanted to - and with the other reached up to rub his thumb against the line of Kurt’s cheekbone. “Come on,” Blaine whispered. “Come on, Kurt. Come for me, baby.” Kurt gave a choking little cry and did, falling forward on top of Blaine.   
  
Blaine caught him. Of course he did. He always would. Kurt laughed. And laughed, shaking on top of Blaine. It was only after he’d finally paid attention to what Blaine was saying — “Kurt, are you okay?” — that he realized he was crying. Blaine sounded like he was starting to panic, and no wonder, Kurt thought, his boyfriend just had  _sex_  with him and now he’s crying like some stupid teenage girl in a lifetime movie and — “Baby, please,” Blaine’s voice broke through Kurt’s thoughts. “Talk to me, Kurt.”   
  
Kurt wasn’t really crying anymore, but his face was still wet with tears and his chest hurt from suppressed sobs. He knew Blaine was probably thinking all sorts of things like that they’d made a mistake, that this was too fast, that Kurt didn’t want this, that Kurt was just a foolish little boy who’d never done anything with anyone — but Kurt didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know why he’d been crying, since what they’d done had been so fucking amazing (ha,  _fucking_  amazing, get it? His internal Finn Hudson said). “I’m sorry,” Kurt said, not looking Blaine in the eyes. He tried to shift off of Blaine, but Blaine wouldn’t let him go.   
  
“Kurt, you were crying,” Blaine said. His voice was still deep and throaty, his  _sex_  voice, dear lord, but he sounded remarkably put together for a seventeen-year-old that’d just had sex.    
  
“Yes, well spotted,” Kurt said, trying to cover. “I can see why you do so well at those find the thing in the picture things.” Okay, so that was less than smooth.   
  
“Kurt.” Blaine’s voice was deadly serious, and Kurt was completely unable to resist the agonized question running unsaid throughout Blaine’s words.   
  
“I’m fine,” Kurt insisted, forcing down his embarrassment to look Blaine in the eye. “I don’t know why I was crying. I don’t—” his voice broke, and internally Kurt cursed himself. Really, now? He had to look away then, couldn’t deal with the intensity of Blaine’s gaze, not now— “It was just intense,” Kurt said quietly. “Just — really intense.”   
  
Blaine’s grip on Kurt relaxed, and he let Kurt slip off and to the side. Twisting onto his own side, Blaine took Kurt’s left hand in his own. “Yeah,” Blaine agreed. “It really was.”    
  
Kurt wanted to turn away, but he didn’t have anywhere to go. And it wasn’t like it was a _bad_  thing, to have your boyfriend looking at you like you were everything they could have ever wanted, it was just — intense.   
  
“God,” Blaine said quietly. “You are just so fucking beautiful, you know that?” Kurt blushed in mortification, but didn’t argue. He’d learned that Blaine was really stubborn on this point, no matter its clearly evident falsehood. Instead, Kurt shut his eyes and squeezed Blaine’s hand. They fell asleep that way, fingers intertwined, foreheads touching, practically breathing the same breath. Before Blaine finally let himself slip into sleep, he couldn’t help but think to himself that this must be what it would feel like, falling asleep with Kurt every night and waking up with him every morning, that this wonderful, quiet contentment he was feeling, so much softer than the usual intensity of emotion Blaine associated with Kurt, that this, too, was love.   
  
***   
  
Kurt awoke rather suddenly to Blaine shaking him. “Anthony’s here,” Blaine said. “He got us some lunch.” Kurt just stared at Blaine for a moment, not really with it yet. Then he looked at the clock and jumped up.    
  
“Oh dear sweet Alexander McQueen if my dad comes home early—” Kurt was acutely aware of the gross stickiness in his pants and the smell of sex in the air. Blaine tried to calm him down, but Kurt really didn’t feel like being calm. If Glee practice got canceled (ignoring the fact that Rachel would never let it be canceled unless she was  _dead_  and maybe not even then) then Finn could be home any minute, and if his dad decided to come home because that fishing show was on, or if Carole got off of her shift early— “I’m not even supposed to have you in my room when no one’s here,” Kurt blurted out, which, okay, Blaine had sort of _assumed_ , having met Kurt’s dad, but since Kurt had never actually  _said_ , Blaine had always been able to pretend they weren’t breaking any rules.   
  
Maybe it was strange for the son of a mob boss to be so concerned about rules, but rules were important in the mob. And rules were  _really_  important if you wanted to keep dating someone with a somewhat overprotective father. “Crap,” Blaine muttered. “Okay,” he said, in a louder voice, “Kurt—” he waited until he was sure he had Kurt’s attention. “Go get cleaned up, get changed; I’ll take care of the room.” It was a good thing he’d told Anthony it’d be a bit before they came up. It was a bit awkward that Anthony had, in a slightly insubordinate and very deliberate manner, left the door at the top of the stairs open, but since he  _had_  given the two of them a whole hour past what they’d agreed to, Blaine decided to let it go. Now, how to deal with the room…looking around, Blaine finally spotted a fan. It’d have to do. He turned it on and straightened the bedclothes, which had gotten twisted up while they were asleep.   
  
“Here,” Kurt said from behind him. Blaine turned around to a pair of boxers thrust in his face. He took them reflexively, but felt obliged to point out that Kurt’s underwear was unlikely to fit him. “They’re Finn’s,” Kurt said. “Don’t worry, they’re clean. I figured too big would be better than too small.” Blaine couldn’t argue with that, and went into the bathroom to change. Taking off his pants, Blaine winced at the pull on his skin from dried semen. It was like pulling off the worst, grossest band-aid ever. But Blaine couldn’t bring himself to regret any of what he and Kurt had done, not even the falling asleep without bothering to first clean up, which would have been the smart thing to do. Using a washcloth, he gave himself a cursory wipe down and changed into the fresh pair of boxers. Luckily he didn’t seem to have gotten anything on his jeans. He might be able to pull off wearing Finn’s underwear, but Finn was, like, a foot taller than him. It’d be pretty obvious if Blaine went upstairs wearing Finn’s jeans.   
  
When Blaine came out of the bathroom, Kurt was fixing his hair in front of the mirror. Blaine felt a fond smile twitch at his lips. Of course Kurt was fixing his hair. Coming up behind him, Blaine slid his arms around Kurt, resting his chin on Kurt’s shoulder. One good thing about Kurt being taller than him was that his shoulders were at the perfect height to be chin rests. “Blaine, I’m busy,” Kurt said, but not with any real seriousness in his voice.    
  
“You look fine,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes. “It’s just Anthony; he’s not going to care if a few hairs are out of place.”   
  
“Of course I look fine,” Kurt said. “I want to look amazing.”   
  
Blaine huffed a laugh into Kurt’s neck. As though Kurt could ever look anything  _but_  amazing. Reaching out, he pulled Kurt’s hand up and gently kissed him, where the ring finger connected to the hand. Kurt’s sharp intake of breath let Blaine know that he hadn’t missed the significance. “One day,” Blaine said quietly into Kurt’s ear, still holding his hand, “I will ask you to marry me.”   
  
Kurt took a deep, shuddering breath and twisted around to look Blaine in the eyes. “And one day,” Kurt said, feeling light-headed, “I’ll say yes.”    
  
Blaine kissed him, chastely, and it felt like a vow.   
  
Blaine kept his chin on Kurt's shoulder while the younger boy finished getting himself together, smiling at the sight of them in the mirror. "You're gonna have a field day getting to pick out my clothes for me once we're married, aren't you?" He asked softly, smiling as he watched Kurt's reflection light up.   
  
"Like you wouldn't believe. I have enough fun taking you shopping now that you don't have to wear a uniform every day," Kurt said, reaching over his shoulder and ruffling Blaine's hair gently. "However, between now and then, I need you to go upstairs and act like you and Anthony have been up there the whole time, just in case my dad--" He cut off at the sound of tires in the driveway.   
  
"Consider me gone," Blaine said, kissing Kurt on the cheek quickly and running upstairs. He spotted Anthony in the kitchen with both his and Kurt's food already open and slightly stirred around as if they had been eating already. "What's the story?" He asked as he dropped in to a chair across from the bodyguard, panting slightly.   
  
"Mr. Hummel felt dizzy after his math class, which also explains his fight with his teacher, so you brought him home first, then went back to school yourself while I waited here. You showed up about ten minutes ago with a late lunch for Mr. Hummel, who is downstairs putting on a different shirt after getting pasta sauce on the one he was wearing earlier." Anthony said calmly, showing some of his twenty-seven years of practice. "You also, though Boss man doesn't know it yet, brought home some cheesecake for Mr. and Mrs. Hummel, since you took Kurt out of school without asking their permission."   
  
Blaine nodded quickly, taking a huge bite out of the lasagna in front of him. "You're the best, Anthony. Beyond the best. Remind me to get you that holster you've been eyeing, alright? I owe you way more than that, but it's a start."   
  
Anthony nodded, standing up as he heard the front door slam, relaxing slightly as Burt rounded the corner from the living room. "Mr. Hummel, sir. How you doing? You work hard today, or hardly work?"   
  
Burt chuckled, patting the other man's shoulder and nodding at Blaine as he walked toward the fridge. "Hardly worked, thanks to that kid of mine. You know he told the other guys at the shop to schedule me an afternoon of paperwork every other day? I mean, I know that I gotta watch myself, but taking the lug nuts off a car ain't gonna do me in...Where is Kurt, anyways?" Burt asked, looking from Blaine to the take-out containers to the empty setting at the table.   
  
"I'm here, dad. Right here," Kurt called from the top of the stairs. "And if you've even thinking of getting some of that pie Carole made for dinner last night, you'd better think again. I shouldn't have let you have it last night, but two days in a row definitely isn't gonna happen." He walked in to the kitchen and up to his father, pulling him away from the fridge slowly. "You go sit and watch TV. I'll find something healthy for you to have as a snack."   
  
Burt grumbled as he was all but marched out of the kitchen, pausing at the doorway to turn to Blaine. "Sports Center's going to have a special on the top ten college quarterbacks of all time in about half an hour. You up for it?" As Blaine nodded, Burt smirked, nodding at him in return. "Good. That'll give you some time to fix your hair so it doesn't look like you just spent an hour making out with my son."   
  
Blaine watched him walk out of the room, his jaw practically on the floor. "I--Um--Ye--Yes sir?" He stammered, looking at Kurt nervously, wincing as his boyfriend shrugged and followed his father out to the living room, talking to him quietly. Blaine dropped his head in his hands, only looking up when Kurt came back in to the kitchen.   
  
"So? How dead am I?" He asked, biting his lip slightly. He sighed as Kurt sat down next to him, automatically reaching out and pulling the younger boy closer, kissing him on the cheek gently. "I'm never allowed over again, am I? I'm banished from the Hudmel household for the rest of time."   
  
Kurt laughed, leaning against Blaine and shaking his head. "Actually, you're more welcome here than you ever were before..." He smirked at Blaine's raised eyebrow, reaching up and tapping at Blaine's neck slightly. "Dad's impressed with my ability to leave hickeys, apparently. He said he was proud of me for making sure nobody tried to take you away from me."   
  
Blaine blinked at Kurt in confusion, shaking his head slightly. "Wait...He what?!" He asked, not quite believing what he was hearing.   
  
"You heard me," Kurt said, smirking slightly and reaching for the food that Anthony had brought him. "I chose to leave out the fact that if anyone so much as looks at you, I could shoot them, or have them shot for it."   
  
Blaine winced, shaking his head and laughing softly. "Maybe we should save that little bit of information until after we're engaged...I don't want him blaming me for your violent tendencies."   
  
"Too late."   
  
***   
  
Finn left glee practice early that afternoon. Rachel hadn’t been too happy, so Finn had a feeling he was going to be apologizing, like, a lot for the next few days, but he’d been worried about Kurt. The dude had apparently flipped out during math class, and Mercedes said that Blaine took him home, which, okay, was sort of understandable because Kurt didn’t flip out so if he  _had_ flipped out then it was probably pretty serious, but dude. Kurt got out of school way more than Finn did. And when Kurt cut school to hang out with his boyfriend, Mom and Burt thought it was cute. If Finn cut school to hang out with Rachel, he’d, like,  _never_  stop being grounded.   
  
Okay, so it wasn’t like Kurt could get Blaine pregnant. He couldn’t, right? Finn tried to think it through: Okay, so probably they couldn’t get pregnant. They were gay, but they’re still guys, with, like, guy parts, but — oh, God. What if they _could_  get pregnant? Rachel was always complaining about the sex-ed class they’d had at school, and, okay, Finn had tuned most of it out, but he remembered her turning to Kurt indignantly and complaining that they hadn’t said a thing about gay sex. (Kurt had just raised an eyebrow and pointed out that homosexuality didn’t exist in Ohio, which Finn didn’t understand, because Lima was in Ohio, and Kurt was really, really gay, so clearly it did.) So how would Kurt, like, know if he needed to use protection? Finn had believed Quinn’s hot tub story, okay, and Finn knew that in retrospect that was kind of stupid of him, but at least people told you how not to get girls pregnant.   
  
So maybe Finn shouldn’t have blurted out “Kurt! Don’t get pregnant!” the moment he walked into the living room and saw Kurt curled up next to Blaine on the couch. He didn’t think he deserved Burt dragging him off for a private talk, though, which was clearly going to like, suck, a lot, since there was a football special on and if Burt was skipping that it meant things were serious and— “I’m sorry!” Finn said quickly. “I know, it’s none of my business, and Kurt can take care of himself, and — I mean, not that Kurt needs to take care of himself, because it’s not like he’s having sex with Blaine—” (oh God, he hoped Kurt wasn’t having sex with Blaine. Wait, was that, like, homophobic? Finn didn’t think so, because he was pretty sure the reason he found that upsetting to think about was because Kurt was, like, his brother, but he thought maybe he should ask Rachel the next time he saw her. She was pretty good about letting him ask things like that, which Kurt always seemed to think really funny for some reason.)   
  
“Finn!” Burt interrupted his internal monologue. Finn looked at Burt, startled.    
  
“I’m sorry?” Finn tried again.   
  
Burt ran a hand over his hair distractedly. “Finn,” he started, and then stopped. “Do you— I mean, are you — God, what are they teaching them in school these days?” Finn was pretty sure he hadn’t been meant to hear that last part.   
  
Back in the living room, Blaine finally managed to speak. "Did he just tell you...?" Blaine trailed off, afraid that saying it out loud would make it real.   
  
"Yes. Yes, he did. And I can tell you now that no, he wasn't joking and yes, he really thinks it's a valid concern." Kurt said, unfazed. "Don't even try and find the logic in it, you'll give yourself a migraine and be forever caught in the maze of trying to understand him. Same with Brittany, actually."   
  
Blaine made a face at him in confusion. "But...He knows that--that just because we're gay doesn't mean--He  _has_  to know that, Kurt.  Doesn't he?"   
  
Kurt sighed, realizing that yet again, Finn had managed to cock-block him using nothing but his powers of stupidity. Sitting up and turning so that he was facing Blaine, Kurt took the other boys face in his hands gently, looking him in the eye and speaking slowly. "Blaine, I want you to listen closely, because I'm only going to say this once," Kurt started, looking at his boyfriend closely to make sure that he had his full attention. At Blaine's nodding, Kurt continued. "Finn?  Is stupid.  I love him to death, but he's the most gullible guy alive.  There's no fixing that.  Give up now."   
  
Blaine blinked at him, clearly still confused. Kurt sighed, flopping back down so that he was cuddled up against his boyfriend similar to how he had been before. Patting Blaine on the chest gently, Kurt shook his head.   
  
"It's okay, honey. You just worry about being the handsome one with the gun; I'll do all the hard work."   
  
Blaine was reasonably certain he ought to have taken offense to that last, but honestly? He was too busy being ridiculously happy that Kurt had called him honey. In a mocking sort of way, true, but still. (Blaine had no illusions about just how head over heels he was for Kurt. Growing up in the mob taught you to be honest with yourself and to lie to everyone else.) Still, he knew Kurt expected some kind of response, so Blaine pouted and slid down on the couch, pretending to sulk.   
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine saw Kurt look heaven-ward, presumably for patience. Blaine smirked a little, but made sure to have wiped it back off his face by the time Kurt looked back down. To be fair, Blaine was a little concerned. Kurt seemed to think that Finn’s outburst had been to be expected. Was Kurt’s stepbrother really that out of it?    
  
Kurt sighed next to him. “Finn’s sweet,” he said, proving yet again that he could read Blaine’s mind, “But he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. I love the lug, but sometimes he just doesn’t get things.” Kurt shrugged helplessly. “It’s easier to just go with it. He’s not as bad as Brittany, thank goodness.”   
  
Blaine twisted up to look at Kurt again. “Is your father going to explain to him—”   
  
Kurt grimaced. “I hope not.”   
  
“ _Someone_ ought to explain it to him,” Blaine pointed out. “I mean, I still can’t believe that he was serious. This is basic facts of life stuff.”   
  
Kurt sighed again. “Remind me sometime to tell you about how his ex-girlfriend convinced him he was the father of her baby, even though they’d never had sex.”   
  
Blaine blinked. “Wait, what?”   
  
The front door audibly opened and closed. Kurt brightened. “Oh, good! Carole’s home!”   
  
“And  _she’ll_  explain to Finn—”   
  
“Carole!” Burt called from the other room. “You and I need to have a conversation with Finn.”   
  
“You really don’t,” Finn said quickly, backing back into the living room. “I already said I’m sorry and I won’t bother Kurt again about stuff that’s not my business. And I really was just worried about him, because he’s like my brother now, and I don’t understand why I’m in trouble now. I didn’t think I was doing anything bad!”   
  
“You’re not in trouble, Finn,” Burt said exasperatedly.    
  
“But you said we needed to have a talk!” Finn accused.   
  
“Yes—”   
  
“That means I’m in trouble!”   
  
Blaine felt a hot huff of breath against his shoulder. Kurt seemed to be trying to smother his laughter in Blaine’s shirt. “Maybe we should leave?” Blaine whispered.   
  
“And go where?” Kurt asked in the same undertone.   
  
“Well, I’m pretty sure my parents and Emma were going to a friend’s dinner party tonight, so my house would be fairly quiet,” Blaine said softly, trying to sound casual. Who was he kidding? Kurt knew that he meant they could be alone, and after what they’d done earlier, he was pretty sure Kurt knew what Blaine wanted to do when they were alone again. From the way Kurt’s eyes lit up, Blaine was pretty sure he agreed.   
  
“Dad?” Kurt called out, never looking away from Blaine. “Blaine invited me over to dinner at his place. Is it alright if I go?”   
  
“Sure,” Burt said, clearly still distracted by Finn.    
  
“And since it’s so far out, I thought I’d probably just stay the night rather than driving back in the dark,” Kurt continued.   
  
Blaine saw Burt’s attention shift from Finn to Kurt. “You did,” Burt said dryly.   
  
Kurt swallowed nervously but turned around to face his father. “Well, I know how worried you get about me driving in less than ideal conditions,” Kurt said.   
  
“So instead of driving home in the dark, you want to spend the night at your boyfriend’s house,” Burt said. There didn’t really seem to be a question there, but Kurt chose to answer anyway.   
  
“Yes. Yes, I do.”   
  
There was a sudden loud noise from across the room. Finn had apparently been trying to sneak away when he ran into the door frame. Burt sighed. “Blaine,” he said.   
  
“Yes, sir?” Blaine said, back straightening.   
  
“There going to be adults at your house tonight?”   
  
“Yes sir,” Blaine said. He carefully didn’t mention the fact that the adults in question all worked for him. Unless Mr. Hummel specifically asked, that wasn’t necessary information.   
  
“Fine,” Burt said. “But you — both of you, actually — make sure to get your homework done. And no skipping class again tomorrow,” he told Kurt with a scowl. “I know you had a bad day today and I understand you wanting to spend time with your boyfriend, but that doesn’t excuse you skipping out on your schoolwork. Your grades are important, Kurt.”   
  
“I know, Dad,” Kurt said, standing up to give him a hug. “I promise, no more skipping class. Unless it’s important.”   
  
“And sales—”   
  
“—Are not important, I know,” Kurt said. “Although I would again like to lodge a formal complaint about the categorization of designer sales as unimportant.”   
  
“Go,” Burt said, “Have fun. Drive safe.”    
  
Blaine went outside to wait while Kurt gathered emergency spending-the-night-and-getting-ready-for-s chool supplies. He probably could have waited inside, but Mr. Hummel had started trying to explain to Mrs. Hudson-Hummel what, exactly, was the issue they needed to talk to Finn about, and really? Blaine wanted no part of that. Finn was nice and all, and for the most part he seemed to be a pretty good stepbrother to Kurt, but — Blaine was not ready to deal with listening to someone explain to a teenager that men couldn’t get each other pregnant.   
  
And also he really didn’t want Mr. Hummel to notice the erection he’d gotten thinking about what he wanted to do to Mr. Hummel’s son later. Blaine had a feeling that that? Would really suck.   
  
And not in a good way.   
  
Blaine straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the car as Kurt made his way out of his house, overnight bag slung over his shoulder. "Oh my god," he said, walking over to Blaine and leaning against his boyfriend. "I wish I had a camera. The look on Finn's face! You should've seen it, Blaine." He laughed, letting go of Blaine to flop against the side of the car, still laughing. "Seriously, go see. I'm pretty sure he's still trying to pick his jaw up off the floor..."   
  
"I'll pass, baby...There are better things for me to be doing right now." He said, eying the way Kurt was bent over the hood of his car. "You should get in the car, Kurt." He said softly, taking a step closer and putting a hand on his boyfriend's waist gently.   
  
Kurt looked up at Blaine, smirking slightly. "Oh, really? Better things like what, honey? Homework? Watching TV on your family's ridiculously large TV?" He smiled, turning so that he was propped up on his elbows. "Trying not to drool while you undress me with your eyes?"   
  
Blaine groaned softly, sneaking a glance at the windows to see if Burt or Carole was looking outside before moving so that he was leaning over Kurt, kissing him deeply. He leaned back, sliding his hand along Kurt's side gently. "I think you should get in the car, baby," he said softly, squeezing Kurt's hip gently before pulling away completely and heading for the driver's side door.   
  
Kurt sighed, letting his head fall back against the car in the frustration. "You know, this whole 'tease' act you've got going on better stop once we're engaged. I refuse to get blue balls just because you think you're being funny."   
  
"You wouldn't be worrying about it if you'd get in the car," Blaine said, raising an eyebrow and starting the engine. "Now will you please get in? I have a laundry list of plans for you, none of which involve your family's driveway. We're not at that level of PDA yet."   
  
"I want it to go on record that you're setting yourself up for some serious payback when we get to your house." Kurt said as he walked around to the passenger side and got in, smirking at Blaine slightly. "You're not the only one with plans, you know..."

 

  


  



	3. Chapter 3

Finn really didn’t understand why Burt was mad at him. He hadn’t said it to be mean, or anything, but maybe it was like telling a girl not to get pregnant? Because Rachel said not to do that ever because it makes girls think that  _you_  think that they’re sluts, which Finn doesn’t get, because Brittany and Santana have sex with lots of guys and no one would ever tell them not to get pregnant because everyone knows they make you wear a condom. Girls are weird.    
And now Kurt was going to go spend the night at his boyfriend’s house. Not cool.   
  
“Finn, stop looking so terrified,” Burt said with a sigh.   
  
Finn wasn’t sure what Burt wanted him to do. He was a little scared, okay? Because he was in trouble and Burt was angry and it had to do with Kurt and last time Finn had gotten kicked out of the house, which, okay, probably wouldn’t happen now that Burt and his mom were actually married, and this was probably not that bad, because Kurt hadn’t seemed to care, and last time he looked like Finn had hit him with like, a bag of bricks or something. (Rachel had slapped him when he told her about it, and Finn was pretty sure he’d deserved it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t, like,  _known_  that calling something f*ggy would be really mean to Kurt.)   
  
“I told you, kid; you’re not in trouble. Your mom and I just need to talk to you.”   
  
Finn didn’t find this very reassuring. Adults always said that when you were in trouble. Burt had pulled his mom off to the side and was talking to her quietly, and dude. What if his mom got, like, really upset? What if she cried? It’d be all Finn’s fault and he’d be a terrible son and—Finn frowned. Why was his mom laughing?   
  
His mom came over and stood in front of Finn, with one hand over her mouth. Finn could tell she was trying to hold back laughter, and he was trying to figure out whether or not this meant he should be insulted when she patted his shoulder. “Honey, you don’t have to worry about Kurt getting pregnant. I promise.”   
  
Finn was relieved, although he did wish she had said one way or another if Kurt  _could_ get pregnant.   
  
“Carole,” Burt said, “Don’t you think we ought to explain this to him?” Explain what, Finn wondered.   
  
His mom shook her head. “It’s fine, Burt.”   
  
“But—”   
  
“Mr. Hummel, Mrs. Hudson-Hummel,” Anthony (Kurt’s  _bodyguard_ ) nodded to Burt and Finn’s mom. “I’m off for the night. There’s some cheesecake the boys picked up for you in the fridge. Take care.”   
  
Burt and Finn’s mom said goodbye, as did Finn, belatedly. Because dude, cheesecake.   
Burt tried to talk to Finn again, but Finn really didn’t care anymore. His mom said he didn’t have to worry about Kurt getting pregnant and dude, maybe the cheesecake was the chocolate kind. That would be totally awesome.   
  
***   
  
Blaine was relieved when they finally got to his house. Kurt hadn’t been doing anything ridiculously overt like touching Blaine or talking about what they might do later, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t being a goddamn tease. And Kurt complained about Blaine? _Blaine_  didn’t sing Katy Perry sex songs with his chair reclined and his legs crossed and going on forever.  _Blaine_  didn’t slowly drink from a bottle of water and lick up all the spilled drops with flashes of soft pink tongue.  _Blaine_  didn’t oh-so-casually loosen his tie (why was Kurt wearing a tie anyhow? Okay, fashion, but still—) and toy with the buttons of his collar.   
  
Blaine was not the tease in this relationship, okay. He rounded the car to open Kurt’s door. “Such a gentleman,” Kurt said with a roll of his eyes, but Blaine could see the affection behind it. Even if he hadn’t, the pleased look on Kurt’s face as Blaine took his hand to help him out of the car would have more than made up for Kurt’s poking fun.   
  
Sometimes Kurt still looked surprised when Blaine did things like this. Blaine was always torn between being incredibly angry that no one had ever treated Kurt like the amazing person that he was and being fiercely, possessively pleased that no one else had ever put that breathtaking look of unbelieving happiness on Kurt’s face.   
  
Blaine knew he wasn’t really all that nice of a person, deep down. He tried to be, tried to be gracious and generous and gentlemanly, but there was darkness inside him. It was probably for the best, considering the family business, but that didn’t mean he was particularly proud of it. Kurt said he loved Blaine, but he’d never really seen Blaine’s darker side. Blaine hoped he never would. Maybe it was romantic, to be so in love with someone that you’d rip to shreds anyone who even looked at them in the wrong way. Blaine wasn’t sure Kurt would take it that way, though.   
  
Although Kurt could be surprisingly violent and incredibly possessive, so maybe it would be fine.   
  
But maybe it wouldn’t, and Blaine was too scared of losing him to find out.   
  
Losing Kurt wasn’t an option. The only way Blaine was ever letting Kurt go was if Kurt said he wanted out. Sometimes, in his darker moments, Blaine wondered if he’d even be able to do so then. Not that he would force Kurt to stay with him, of course, but Blaine wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to just let Kurt go, completely erase himself from Kurt’s life.   
  
Blaine brought Kurt’s hand to his lips and kissed the place Kurt would one day wear his ring, overwhelmingly grateful.   
  
Losing Kurt wasn’t an option, but Kurt wasn’t going anywhere. And one day, he’d be Blaine’s officially. Forever.   
  
***   
  
Kurt hadn't meant to be a tease, really. It wasn't his fault that Blaine had Katy Perry's CD in on the ride to his house. Okay,  _maybe_ Kurt could've sung along to all of the songs, not just the ones about sex, but where was the fun in that? And okay,  _maybe_  he could've drank his water like he normally did (two quick gulps and a lip rub), but when he could  _see_  Blaine's hands tensing on the steering wheel? He would've had to been made out of steel to resist doing a little bit of teasing.   
  
The tie was a complete accident. He had let his mind drift to what he was going to be doing later (because, hello, teenage boy with a hot boyfriend) and suddenly found it hard to swallow. He had loosened his tie simply to be able to breathe, but then he had seen Blaine look over and lick his lips and wasn't  _that_  an interesting thing to find out his boyfriend liked...So, while the tie had been an accident, the unbuttoning of the buttons was more than strategic.   
  
He probably would've undone a few more if they hadn't pulled up to the Anderson's castle when they did. (Okay, it was your typical mansion, and Blaine got pouty when Kurt called it a castle out loud, but seriously? All it was missing was the turrets. Kurt Hummel could call a spade a spade). Instead, he smiled, teasing Blaine for his overly chivalrous nature like he always did, partially because it was a long-standing joke between them and also partially because he couldn't really bring himself to believe the fact that someone (his  _boyfriend_  even, and that still hadn't sunken in either) wanted to take care of him.   
  
Kurt smiled as Blaine kissed his hand, blushing slightly as he reached in the car to grab his overnight bag out of the backseat. "Keep it up, Anderson. You're gonna keep being all lovey-dovey with me until I just decide to stick around because I'm addicted to the affection, then you'll be stuck with me all the time. Then what?" He asked, smirking to hide the fact that he was, in fact, slightly worried.   
  
He knew that Blaine said he loved Kurt, wanted to marry him even, that much was a fact at this point. What Kurt wasn't sure of was how much Blaine would love him when he realized that Kurt? Not always the nicest guy in the world. Sure, he loved his friends and family above and beyond what was probably normal for a sixteen year old boy, and he'd give any of them the shirt off of his back if they so much as hinted...That didn't stop him from hurting them, sometimes on more than one occasion, and sometimes just because he knew he could.   
  
He had tried to explain it to Mercedes once before, the fact that he could be caring and sweet one second and punching below the belt the next: It was self-preservation. If he was good enough at changing moods on a dime to keep even his closest friends on their toes, he'd have no trouble outwitting the bullies at school. If he sharpened his tongue at the expense of his family (whom he could always apologize to later), he could unleash it on the Neanderthals who tried to bother him without worrying about whether it would come off as whiny and pathetic. He already knew that it would cut to the bone, because he already had the practice.   
  
He frowned, leaning against Blaine slightly as they walked towards the house, only the slightest bit aware that his boyfriend was talking until the phrase 'matching polyester jumpsuits' caught his attention. He pulled away, blinking at Blaine in confusion as he slowed to a halt. "Wait, what did you just say?"   
  
Blaine chuckled, walking back to where Kurt had stopped and kissing his forehead gently. "I thought that'd get your attention. I was saying, before you started ignoring me, that when you stick around because you're addicted to my affection, I will consider myself the luckiest man in the world." He smiled, cupping Kurt's chin in his hand and looking at him closely, frowning slightly at the distant look on his boyfriend's face. "What's wrong? What're you thinking about?"   
  
Kurt huffed, pushing Blaine's hand away and striding towards the door. "That's stupid, Blaine. Your family owns most of Ohio, you have a car that makes most adults in this town embarrassed to park next to you for fear of looking cheap, and you're handsome enough to do anything you want and get away with it. Don't act like me following you around like a lovesick puppy is really what's going to make your life amazing. We both know it's not true." He stopped as he got to the door, turning to look at Blaine with a raised eyebrow. "This isn't going to open itself, you know."   
  
He watched as Blaine blinked at him for a few seconds, and then followed the same path he had made to the door, unlocking it quietly before pushing it open and gesturing for Kurt to go inside. Once they were both in, with the door shut and locked and the alarm turned on, he sighed softly, getting ready for Blaine to lay in to him about how he didn't need to get bitchy, or about how wrong he was in terms of his own self-worth. When Blaine simply walked past him, headed for the living room, he was shocked.   
  
"So that's it? No wise words from the man on top of the mountain?" He asked, following the older boy slowly. "I mean, I'm sure that you, with all your worldly experience, must have something to say in response to all of that."   
  
He watched as Blaine sat down his book bag, then came over and took Kurt's from his hands gently, walking it over to the stairs that lead up to his room before setting it down as well. Kurt swallowed nervously as Blaine slowly came back over to where he was standing, stopping so that they had about five feet of space left in between them.   
  
"I actually have a lot to say," Blaine said softly, looking down at his shoes. "But I know that none of it matters, because you really don't mean any of what you said." He took a step closer, looking Kurt in the eye. "You know how I feel about you, and you know how much of an impact that has on me. You know that I don't care about the material things in my life nearly as much as I care about having someone to share them with."   
  
He took another step closer, reaching out and touching Kurt's arm gently. "If you want to put up this bitchy, diva-esque persona and make everyone else take a step back, that's fine. I get it. You need space to breathe without everyone else trying to take it over and make you what you aren't..." He sighed, shrugging and looking at Kurt helplessly. "I'm just asking that you don't do it with me. Partially because it's an insult to my intelligence for you to think that I can't tell when you're being bitchy because  _you're_  upset and when you're being bitchy because you're trying to make  _me_  upset..."   
  
He sighed softly, closing the gap between them and pulling Kurt in to his arms gently. "And also...Partially because I would hope that you know by now that no how matter how bitchy you get, or how pushy, or demanding, or whatever...I'm not going anywhere." He smirked slightly, pulling down the collar of his shirt to expose the hickey Kurt had left him with earlier. "I've been marked, baby. I'm yours until you decide to get rid of me."   
  
Kurt closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he was grateful that Blaine had seen through his bitching, or angry that he had. How could you test someone who knows you’re testing them? Kurt thought, then immediately wanted to slap himself. Was he really that terrible a person that he had to  _test_  everyone he cared about? Self-defense mechanism or not, that was kind of manipulative. And bitchy.    
  
Kurt’d never really cared about being a bitch before. That was just who he was and how he had to be. But with Blaine looking at him like that, so gently and earnest and loving, with that hurt hidden below the surface — that struck deep.   
  
“I’m always going to be a bitch,” Kurt said in a tone that tried and failed to be defiant. “That’s not going to change.”    
  
Kurt waited for Blaine to realize that Kurt wasn’t worth it. That Kurt wasn’t the nice boy he thought he was, that Kurt wasn’t nice at all. Kurt waited for Blaine to say that he had changed his mind, for him to pull back his hand, for him to tell Kurt to leave.   
  
Instead, Blaine stepped in closer, intertwining the fingers of their hands and reaching up with his other hand to cup Kurt’s cheek. His thumb brushed softly along Kurt’s cheekbone, and Kurt swallowed hard against the sweet aching  _want_  it left in its wake. “And I’m always going to love you,” Blaine said softly. “That’s never going to change either.” He paused. “But I would prefer it if you would stop trying to push me away. I get why you do it, I really do. That doesn’t make it any less painful to know that my boyfriend doesn’t believe me when I say just how in love with you I am.” His thumb gently rubbed against Kurt’s face again. “I might be a lot of things, Kurt, and God knows I might do a lot of things that could hurt you, and I probably will, because in all honesty I’m not that smart a guy, but one thing I can promise you: I will never lie to you.” Blaine paused again. “And even if you don’t believe me, the fact is that I will love you to the day I die.”   
  
Kurt shook his head, rolling his eyes a little, trying to push back the heavy emotions Blaine was making him feel. “There you go again,” Kurt said, trying to sound mocking, but the words mostly came out fond with a hint of disbelief. “Saying all those ridiculous romantic things.” Kurt couldn’t help but squeeze Blaine’s hand a little tighter, but couldn’t stop himself from continuing: “We’re not in some lifetime drama, you know.”   
  
Blaine smiled. “No,” he said, “We’re in a romantic comedy. With mobsters. And occasional musical numbers.”   
  
Kurt couldn’t help but laugh, which had been Blaine’s intention. “Come on,” Blaine said, tugging Kurt toward the stairs. “Let’s go put our stuff down somewhere that isn’t in the way of everyone walking past.”   
  
Blaine got Kurt talking about silly, inconsequential stuff as he led Kurt up the stairs and to his room. He wanted to lighten the mood. This day had been probably the most intense day of his life, even more so than when Emma was born or that one time he was kidnapped as a child or hell, even the day he’d first met Kurt, and he’d thought nothing could ever eclipse that but maybe their wedding day. Quite frankly, Blaine was tired. He hadn’t lied when he told Kurt that it hurt to hear that Kurt didn’t really believe in Blaine’s love. Oh, he hadn’t explicitly said so, but all of the bitching to try and make Blaine upset? That was one of the most overt tests of affection that Blaine had ever seen, and he watched a lot of chick flicks, okay? So he was pretty damn familiar with the tactic, and in fact was reasonably certain that Kurt had gotten the idea (even if he would never admit it and might not even realize it himself) from those self same movies.   
  
It hurt.   
  
Blaine didn’t know how to make it clearer, how much he was in love with Kurt. He knew intellectually that this was a byproduct of all the bullying Kurt had been through, and that eventually Kurt would realize that Blaine’s love was completely unconditional, but Blaine wasn’t perfect, okay? He wanted Kurt to know that  _now_ . It didn’t just hurt to know that Kurt didn’t believe him, it also made him angry. Blaine pressed his anger down with the other, uglier feelings of possession and jealousy and  _need_  that he tried so hard to keep Kurt from ever seeing.   
  
Maybe it was a little hypocritical of Blaine, to expect Kurt to believe Blaine would love him no matter what, when Blaine was pretty sure that Kurt would run screaming if he ever realized just how terrible a person Blaine was, how possessive. He tried so hard not to show it; he was always supportive of Kurt having a social life outside of Blaine; in fact, he even reminded Kurt sometimes to spend more time with Mercedes or his family. That didn’t change the fact that deep down inside, Blaine wanted Kurt all to himself, and that he hated sharing Kurt. With anyone.   
  
God, Blaine thought to himself. He sounded like a fucking abusive boyfriend.   
  
Blaine’s self-recriminations were interrupted by Kurt slamming him into the inside of his bedroom door, which Blaine belatedly realized Kurt had closed before even dropping his bag on the floor. “The hell—” Blaine started to say when Kurt pulled his collar down and fastened his mouth to the same spot he’d marked before. “ _Fuck_ ,” Blaine said, dropping his own bag and grabbing Kurt’s hair. He couldn’t breathe. Kurt was sucking on already sensitive skin and occasionally there was just the slight scrape of teeth and it _hurt_  in the best of ways and Blaine couldn’t fucking stand it. He dragged Kurt away from his neck and up so Blaine could kiss him. Blaine’s head banged against the door again as Kurt pushed forward into the kiss, practically devouring him.   
  
Blaine groaned, pulling Kurt closer and sliding his hands under the younger boy's shirt slowly. "You...You know...I do have a bed..." He gasped in between kisses. "With blankets, even..."   
  
"Fuck the blankets," Kurt said, pulling back and taking Blaine's hand. "I want to be able to see--" he cut off suddenly as his stomach growled. He felt his face heat up in embarrassment, looking at Blaine sheepishly. "Could we maybe pretend that that didn't just happen, and I continue on with my sexy monologue?"   
  
Blaine smiled, pulling Kurt back against him and kissing him gently. "No, no we cannot, I'm not that bad of a boyfriend. We can, however, go downstairs, get some of the leftovers from dinner last night warmed up, and watch a movie in the living room while we eat." He smiled, kissing Kurt's cheek before pushing him back a few steps so that he could turn and open the door.    
  
"Leftovers? Your mom didn't really strike me as the 'Betty Crocker' type of gal..." Kurt said, holding Blaine's hand as he followed him back down the stairs. "Actually, she didn't really strike me as any type of gal, aside from the kind who could kill me six ways from Sunday..."   
  
"Which is a very accurate description of her," Blaine said, nodding. "She's not Betty Crocker at all... Actually, she's kind of a horrible cook. We have a chef named Leslie who does all that. She'd actually be here now if it weren't for the fact that Mom and Dad had that thing to be at.  If only one of us is going to be home, she gets the night off. Oh, and weekends. We usually just order something in, like Chinese." He added, leading Kurt in to the kitchen as he finished talking.   
  
Kurt looked at him, blinking slightly. "You have a chef? As in, you pay someone to come in and cook for you five days out of the week?" He raised his eyebrows slightly and pursed his lips. "Yeah, you realize that's going to change when we live together, right? I mean, I'm sure Leslie is fantastic, no discredit to her talents intended at all...But I do the cooking. Especially for just the two of us."   
  
Blaine smiled slightly, smiling at the fact that Kurt was already planning parts of their future. "I don't know, baby, I've never had your cooking before...What if it's not as good?" He asked, winking at Kurt playfully. "I mean, I do have a rather large...appetite." He added softly, giving Kurt's body a once over so that his double entendre couldn't be missed.   
  
Kurt smirked, crowding in to Blaine's space so that the other boy was backed against the counter. "You just tell me what you want, honey. I can cook you anything you choose." He smiled, kissing Blaine deeply before pulling away and heading towards the cabinets, winking over his shoulder.   
  
Blaine blinked at him, still caught up in the fact that his boyfriend was an amazing kisser, the kind that left him speechless afterwards. "Kurt, the fridge is...It's over here," He said, gesturing to the fridge on his left. "I thought you wanted dinner?"   
  
Kurt smiled, opening one of the cabinets and then kneeling down in front of it, looking inside for a few seconds before pulling out a few pans and standing up. "I do want dinner...But I want prove to you that I'm a good cook first." He smiled, setting the pans on the counter before brushing past Blaine to open the refrigerator, grabbing a few things before closing the door and pausing in front of Blaine, whispering in his ear softly. "Wouldn't want my man to think I can't take care of him..."   
  
Blaine sighed softly, letting his head fall back against the upper cabinets. "I'm never gonna be able to get my way against you, am I?"   
  
Kurt smiled, kissing Blaine on the cheek gently before strolling over to the stove. "Nope. I can cook, and you think I'm hot. Face it, honey: You've signed yourself up for a lifetime of being my bitch."   
  
***   
  
Blaine hadn’t really doubted Kurt when he’d said he was a good cook, but this? This was _fantastic_ .   
  
“This is fantastic, Kurt,” Blaine said, having swallowed his bite a little faster than was strictly polite. Kurt had been looking at him with such an unsure expression on his face that was at odds with his earlier cockiness, and Blaine knew he was waiting for Blaine’s reaction.    
  
Kurt’s face lit up. “I told you,” he said, with a triumphant sniff. “I am an  _excellent_  cook.”   
  
“So you are,” Blaine agreed. He couldn’t help but smile at Kurt. He looked so happy that Blaine liked his cooking. It was — what was that word David used all the time to describe Kurt? — endearing. Adorable, even.   
  
Blaine felt that really they ought to have conversation during their meal, since that was the point of having meals together, but it had been a long day and neither Kurt nor he’d eaten since breakfast. Actually, considering Kurt’s penchant for skipping meals (something that was going to stop, if Blaine had anything to do with it), it was entirely possible that this was Kurt’s first meal of the day. They were really too hungry to talk. Blaine couldn’t help but think, though. He wanted — God, how he wanted — to touch Kurt, to hear the sounds he’d make, to see him fall apart.   
  
But Blaine couldn’t help but remember the sick feeling he’d had earlier, when Kurt was on top of him and  _crying_ . He never wanted to feel like that again. Hell, he wanted Kurt to never cry again, but Blaine knew that was just stupidly unrealistic. At the very least, though, Blaine wanted to make sure Kurt never cried because of  _Blaine_  again. And maybe that wasn’t realistic either, but what about this was, really? He’d fallen in love with Kurt the moment he saw him, and wasn’t that just the stupidest, most ridiculous thing? Blaine had always scoffed at the romances that talked about ‘one true love’s, but then it happened and he couldn’t understand how it was possible. And somehow everyday he fell more in love with Kurt. Every day he thought it wasn’t possible to fall deeper in love with a person, and every day he was proved wrong.   
  
Or maybe that’s just what love was. Real love. He’d mentioned it to his dad, off-handedly so as to have a good excuse for ending the conversation if it proved necessary, and all his dad had said was that he was glad Blaine had found someone. Then he’d started talking business again, and Blaine had to concentrate, because one day this mob was going to belong to him, and he needed to know how to keep his family safe and the business running.   
  
Kurt leaned back coyly after they finished eating. “So …” he drawled, “If you pay someone to cook for you, do you also pay someone to clean for you?”   
  
Blaine couldn’t help but laugh. “You just don’t want to wash the dishes,” Blaine said fondly.   
  
“Of course not,” Kurt said. “Dish soap is terrible for my skin.”   
  
Blaine suppressed laughter. Kurt always entertained him with his fastidiousness. He had no trouble with getting greasy and dirty helping his father in the shop, but anywhere else he’d throw a fit about the slightest spec of dirt. “Luckily for you,” Blaine said, taking both their dishes into the kitchen, “We do indeed hire someone to clean after us. Maria’s around somewhere — Maria’s our usual maid; she’s Anthony’s niece, actually; sweet girl — and she’ll deal with the dishes, but it’s only polite to clear our own plates.”   
  
Kurt tugged Blaine upstairs by the hand. Blaine wasn’t protesting, but he was worried. He knew what Kurt was thinking, and it wasn’t like Blaine wasn’t thinking it too, but Blaine just wasn’t sure…   
  
Blaine’s bedroom door closed behind them, Kurt pushed Blaine up against it again.   
  
“Still have a bed,” Blaine pointed out.    
  
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Maybe I don’t want you on a bed,” he said, running his hands down Blaine’s chest. “Maybe I want you just” — he unbuckled Blaine’s pants — “like” —he pulled Blaine’s jeans down and out of the way— “this,” he finished, sinking to his knees.   
  
Holy Mary mother of God, Kurt was on his knees and he was looking up at Blaine through those ridiculously long lashes of his and Blaine couldn’t remember how to breathe. And then Kurt was leaning forward, oh God, and Blaine could  _feel_  the heat of his breath and  _fuck_ , he wanted Kurt’s mouth on him so badly he thought he might die.   
  
“Wait,” Blaine gasped out, grabbing Kurt’s shoulders. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Fuck, Kurt was on his  _knees_ . “Baby, wait.”   
  
Kurt looked exasperated and hurt and desperately turned on, all at once. “Why?” he said in a voice deeper and raspier than normal and God, how much more would it rasp if —    
  
“We need to talk,” Blaine managed to say.    
  
Kurt stood up so suddenly Blaine felt like he had whiplash. “Are you breaking up with me?” Kurt demanded, his voice getting shrill. “Because earlier today you said you were going to marry me, so excuse me if I misunderstood because I’m getting some pretty damn mixed signals here, Blaine.”   
  
“What?” Blaine didn’t know how Kurt had gotten ‘I want to break up’ from ‘We need to talk’.    
  
“No,” Blaine said loudly, “I do  _not_  want to break up with you; where the hell would you get that idea?”   
  
Kurt crossed his arms angrily. “You said we needed to talk,” Kurt said icily. “That  _always_ means they want to break up.”    
  
“In the  _movies_ , Kurt,” Blaine said, thinking that maybe Kurt had more in common with his step-brother than he thought he did.   
  
Kurt’s stance got a little less antagonistic and a lot more defensive. “So why do you want to talk?”   
  
Blaine sighed. Running his fingers through his hair, he went to take a seat on his bed. If they were going to have this conversation, he might as well be comfortable for it.   
  
Kurt frowned, looking at Blaine with his head tilted to the side. "You're starting to worry me, Blaine...Seriously, what's wrong?"   
  
"I think...For now, at least..." Blaine started, picking at the knee of his jeans nervously, "that we should take a--" He paused, looking up to find Kurt glaring at him. "Take a second! A second, not a break, don't freak out on me!" He said, backtracking quickly.   
  
"A second for what, Blaine?" Kurt asked, his voice almost deadly soft. "A second for you to decide that you want to take a break? Is that what this "second" we're taking is all about?" He asked, making air quotes as he spoke. "Is this just some way for you to string me along before you decide you're done playing around?"   
  
"No! For the last time, I'm not breaking up with you!" He said, standing up and glaring and Kurt, finally fed up with the fact that the younger boy didn't believe him. "I'm trying to tell you that I'm worried about us going too fast too soon, and that I want us to slow down on the sex and actually talk about things, but all you seem to want to do is find ways to put words in my mouth! To be honest, I'm getting sick of it, Kurt. If you have something you want to say to me, fine, but don't force me to say it for you just because you're scared!"   
  
"Well I'm sorry that we can't all be as cool and composed as you are every minute of the day, Blaine!" Kurt snapped, feeling his face heat up in anger. "I'm sorry that I'm not as used to having people fall at my feet as you clearly are already. I'm sorry--" He paused as his voice cracked, taking a deep breath and swallowing before continuing in a much softer tone. "I'm sorry that I'm scared, and that I'm trying to push you away before I really get hurt."   
  
Blaine sighed, feeling himself get over his anger as quickly as it he had felt it flare up inside of him. Putting his arms around Kurt tightly, he kissed the taller boy's jaw gently and started to rub his back. "And this is why I think we need to talk...C'mon, let's sit down..." He pulled away, leading Kurt to his bed and letting him sit down before walking over to his computer desk and situating himself in the chair there.   
  
"You...You're not going to sit next to me?" Kurt asked, looking at him worriedly. "I mean, I know you're mad and all, but I..."   
  
Blaine shook his head, shushing him gently and rolling the chair over so that he was in front of Kurt, taking his hand gently. "I'm upset, you're right. That doesn't mean that I don't want to be next to you." He shrugged, blushing slightly. "It's just that...I love you, Kurt. You being upset makes me want to skip talking in favor of kissing you senseless, making you forget that you were ever even mad, and that won't help right now. We need to talk first, baby. The only way that's gonna happen is with some space between us."   
  
  
“Okay,” Kurt said softly. He guessed that made sense. He sighed, looking at his boyfriend and shrugging slightly. "Where do we start?"   
  
Blaine took a deep breath. "I think we should --" He stopped. "No, that's not what I want to say. I think --" He broke off again, and sighed. Giving Kurt's hand a kiss, he started again. "We're kids, Kurt. I know we feel like we're so grown up and in some ways we are -- you've had to take care of your dad and deal with all sorts of things people our age don't even think about. And I've learned more in the last few months about being the boss than I had in my entire life, thanks to my dad's crash course. But we're still kids. And we don't know what we're doing."   
  
"We know we're getting married," Kurt said quietly.   
  
"Yeah," Blaine said with a small smile. "We do know that. And that -- it terrifies me, Kurt. You were in tears earlier because of it. I'm so in love with you that it sometimes feels like everything in our relationship is inevitable. Why wait to have sex? Why wait to get engaged? Hell, why wait to get married? We both know it's going to happen, right?"   
  
Blaine saw panic flash in Kurt's eyes as Blaine deliberately brought up what he knew scared Kurt the most.   
  
"But, Kurt," Blaine continued, squeezing Kurt's hand reassuringly, "The thing is, even if we know we're going to do those things someday, that doesn't mean we're ready for them now." Blaine paused. "And it doesn't mean that we should skip over all the stuff in between."   
  
"Like going to Prom?" Kurt said in a small voice. Blaine filed away the fact that Kurt definitely wanted to go to prom somewhere in the back of his mind where he stored important Kurt information.   
  
"Yeah," Blaine said. "Like going to prom, or getting caught making out by our parents, or just -- learning more about each other. I know a lot about you, Kurt, and I've told you a lot about me, but I want to know you, Kurt, really know you." He shrugged. "I know all of your favorite musicals and why you prefer Judy Garland to Barbara Streisand, but I have no idea what you did on snow days when you were little or whether or not you're scared of ducks."   
  
"Are  _you_  scared of ducks?" Kurt asked, his brow furrowed a little.   
  
"No, Emma is," Blaine said. "But that's not the point."   
  
"I know," Kurt said. He looked at Blaine, a serious expression on his face. "I know," Kurt repeated quietly.   
  
"So...I have an idea," Blaine said, sitting up straighter. Part of his lessons with his dad lately had been about using body language to get across a message without saying anything.  _Time to see if it's paying off_ , he thought to himself as he opened his mouth.   
  
Kurt tried really hard not to laugh when he realized what Blaine was doing. “Stop—just, stop, Blaine,” Kurt said, holding up his hand to get Blaine to pause. "I know you, honey. You sitting up straight to prove that you know what you're talking about and that I should listen to you without question? Not gonna work." He winked playfully. "Besides, your mom told me to be on the lookout for that. Apparently your dad tries the same thing, your mom's just nice enough to let him think it works."   
  
Blaine deflated a little, slumping back down in his seat. "Damn it,” he said, affecting a pout. “I am gonna have no credibility as a mob boss if she doesn't quit telling everybody all my tricks!" He sighed, turning his pout on Kurt. "Baby?"   
  
"No, the pout doesn't work either. Try again." Kurt said, smiling. "And before you even try, you can skip the 'Intimidation' technique, too. I've seen you dancing to Katy Perry in nothing but your boxers. You're not really gonna be able to put any sort of fear in me when I have that in the back of my mind."   
  
Blaine rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air. "I give up. Why don't we just call everyone and tell them that Emma's the new head of the family now; it'll save time when everyone realizes that I'm as scary as a Cabbage Patch Kid..."   
  
Kurt burst out laughing, making Blaine blink at him in confusion. "I'm sorry, I'm taking your plight seriously, I swear...It's just that you kind of look like the Cabbage Patch Kid I got for my fourth birthday...He had longer hair, though...And, believe it or not, he was even shorter than you."   
  
Blaine rolled his eyes fondly, leaning across the space in between them and kissing Kurt gently. "See? Things like that...I wanna know all of that, Kurt. Which dolls were your favorite, which ones you always wanted but you never got...Who your favorite relatives are, what your family reunions are like..."   
  
He smiled at Kurt, sitting up straight again. "I don't care if this works on you or not, I've got to practice...Anyways, I have an idea, and I'd like your input, if you don't mind." At Kurt's nod, he continued. "I want us to date...Just like anybody else. No bodyguards, no staying at one another's house when our parents are gone..." He shrugged, blushing slightly. "I want to woo you with my romance and charm, basically. Even if that means we don't always see each other every day, that'll make it better. We'll be working for our relationship to work, not just getting complacent with the fact that we know it will."   
  
Kurt smiled, squeezing Blaine's hand gently. "I can agree with that, but how do we get around the fact that we both have mob lessons that we're going to have to do? You know we can't get out of them; your mom and dad would kill us."   
  
"They can't kill us, we're the ones taking over...Well, they could kill us, but that'd mean they'd be stuck in charge until Emma's at least sixteen...Child labor laws," he said in response to Kurt frowning in confusion. "Anyways, those we can still do, just with less kidnapping and more treating it like a business meeting."   
  
"And what about Anthony? Dad's not going to let me stop having a bodyguard just because you want to be romantic, you know."   
  
Blaine smiled and nodded, "I know...But I can pay him an obscene amount of money to conveniently show up at the wrong place when it's time to chaperon our dates, at least for the first half hour or so. That way, we have time to be alone, but not so much time as to lead to anything that might compromise your virtuous nature." He said, winking at Kurt playfully.   
  
"My virtuous nature got compromised around one o'clock this afternoon, if you'll recall." Kurt said, smiling and blushing slightly. He sighed softly, kissing Blaine's hand gently. "I like this plan...Not the part where I'm not getting laid, but the idea of being part of an old-fashioned romance isn't something I'm completely against." He said, playing like he wasn't completely in love with the idea of being pursued.   
  
"Good," Blaine said, standing up and pulling Kurt up as well. "In that case, let's get our books, go downstairs, and start studying."   
  
Kurt looked at him confusedly. "Blaine, our books are already up here. Why don't we just study where we are?"   
  
Blaine smiled, shrugging helplessly. "I'm not allowed to have boys in my room when my parents aren't home, baby. Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Oh, and also, one of us is going to have to sleep on the floor tonight. It wouldn't be right for us to share a bed," he added, widening his eyes in faux innocence.   
  
"I lied," Kurt said automatically. "I don't want romance. I don't need romance. I'm so over romance. I'd rather be a slut if it means we're allowed to cuddle!"   
  
Blaine laughed, grabbing his bookbag and heading for the door. "I'll see you downstairs, baby."   
  
***   
  
“Hey, Kurt, do you know what—” Blaine cut himself off. Kurt had apparently fallen asleep studying. His face was in his textbook and his hair was disheveled. He looked like he had earlier when they had woken up together and God, why had Blaine argued for them slowing down? This was clearly the worst plan ever.   
  
No, Blaine thought to himself sternly, taking a deep breath. This is important. He forcibly reminded himself of the bleak look in Kurt’s eyes, how he’d shaken with sobs only hours before. It made him feel sick, but it was effective in strengthening his resolve in a way remembering his own freak out the night before couldn’t.   
  
Blaine glanced at the clock. Someone would be bringing Emma home anytime now; his parents might extend her bedtime for an important party, but not for more than an hour or so. Any later than that and you were just asking for Emma to throw a very public fit or for her to fall asleep in some hidden corner and panic everyone. His parents would still be out for a while, though. Blaine doubted they’d be home before one o’clock, at the earliest. While his mother was probably enjoying the party, his father was almost certainly using it as cover for a business meeting of some kind or another.   
  
Actually, Blaine thought, if his mother was really enjoying the party,  _she_  was probably doing business of some kind or another. No one could manipulate people like Blaine’s mother.   
  
Well, except Kurt, but Blaine knew that Kurt wasn’t quite as good as his mother, not yet. He was just unable to deny Kurt almost anything.   
  
Possibly that would someday be a problem. On the other hand, his dad was completely wrapped around his mom’s little finger and that’d never interfered with the business.   
  
Well, except for that once, but his mom had been right anyway, so it was just as well.   
  
***   
  
Kurt woke up slowly to the feeling on someone playing with his hair gently. Looking up slightly, he smiled as he realized that Blaine was sitting next to him, running a hand through Kurt's hair in an absent-minded fashion while he studied. Kurt sighed to himself happily, closing his eyes and preparing to go back to sleep.   
  
"We should probably get you moved into one of the guest rooms if you're that tired," Blaine said softly, never taking his eyes off of his textbook or his hand out of Kurt's hair. "Actually, we should probably both head to bed. If Emma comes home and sees you, she's not going to want to go to sleep." He smiled softly, thinking about how enamored his little sister was with his boyfriend. "That, and I really don't want to spend the rest of the night hearing about what business dad managed to get done tonight..." He added, frowning slightly.   
  
Kurt turned his head slightly, blinking his eyes open and watching Blaine while he scribbled down some notes in his binder. "...Is this something you want to do, Blaine?" He asked, his voice raspy from sleep. "The business," he added at his boyfriend's look of confusion. "Did you grow up wanting to be a mob boss?"   
  
Blaine sighed, shrugging slightly. "It's something I have to do, Kurt. It's a job, just like any other. The only difference is that my application was sent in and approved the moment I was born." He thought for a second, setting down his pencil and turning so that he was facing Kurt. "Are there days that I wish I was just a normal high school kid? Yeah. Do I ever get frustrated that I've basically been in training to be the perfect mob boss since I was old enough to talk? You bet."   
  
"So then why do it?" Kurt asked, sitting up slowly and propping his chin in his hand as he looked at Blaine, smiling softly as the older boy's hand slid from his hair down to his shoulder. "Why can't you just politely refuse?"   
  
"Because the good of it all--things like being able to fund the Warblers, or getting rid of Karofsky for you...getting to know that the people I care about are safe and taken care of--that all outweighs the bad," Blaine said simply, standing up and flipping his textbook closed and stacking it on top of his binder. He finished gathering his things before looking at Kurt, smiling fondly at the realization that the other boy had started to fall asleep again. He bent down, kissing the younger boy on the cheek and shaking him gently to wake him up.   
  
"Come on. Time for you to get started on your skin care routine. I refuse to listen to you complain about bags under your eyes tomorrow." He smiled, stepping back and pulling Kurt to his feet gently, smiling as his boyfriend chose to lean against him rather than standing up on his own. "I'm not carrying you to bed, Kurt..." He said warningly.   
  
Kurt just yawned and slumped against Blaine some more, nodding slightly. "Mmm...Okay, honey...You say that...I'm just gonna sleep...Right here."   
  
Blaine sighed, rolling his eyes playfully and bending to scoop Kurt up in to his arms. "We're not even engaged, we're not having sex, and yet I'm carrying you upstairs to your bedroom all the same...If that's not true love..." He trailed off, smiling and kissing Kurt's forehead gently.   
  
"Wait...I get a bed?" Kurt mumbled against Blaine's shoulder tiredly. "You said...We're gonna have to sleep....on the floor..." He lifted his head slightly, looking at Blaine in bleary-eyed confusion. "Huh?"   
  
Blaine chuckled, nudging Kurt's head back down on to his shoulder and shushing him gently. "We have a lot of guest rooms, baby. I'm pretty sure we can find a bed that doesn't have me in it for you to sleep in tonight..."   
  
"Oh...Okay..." Kurt mumbled, nuzzling closer to Blaine and drifting back off to sleep almost immediately.    
  
"Sweet dreams, baby." Blaine whispered, kissing the top of Kurt's head gently and smiling as he started carrying him towards the stairs.   
  
It was hard to leave Kurt and make his way back to his own room on the other side of the house, but Blaine forced himself to do it.    
  
As he changed into pajamas, he couldn’t help but remember the way Kurt had curled in toward his body as he carried Kurt up the stairs, and the way Kurt had clung to Blaine’s neck when Blaine tried to put him in bed. Nor could he forget the way Kurt had then curled into a pillow, tucking himself up against it the way he’d curled up to Blaine   
  
And then Blaine couldn’t help but think of the way Kurt would twist his body when they were kissing so as to be as close as humanly possible, and then Blaine was remembering the way Kurt had so thoroughly kissed him and then all he could think about was Kurt on his fucking  _knees_  looking up at him like Blaine was the most amazing thing in the world, like it wasn’t Blaine that was so fucking lucky—   
  
Blaine heard himself groan a little and he was touching himself and God, he was already so fucking hard, all it would take—   
  
Blaine panted, trying to come down from his orgasm. What Kurt did to him…he’d jerked off more in the last year than he had in all the rest of his teenage years, even when he was thirteen and  _everything_  turned him on.   
  
Okay, so that last bit was probably hyperbole, but Blaine really didn’t care.   
  
Blaine let his head hit the wall. “I am so dumb,” he said out loud.   
  
Then he changed into clean pajamas.   
  
On the other side of the house, Kurt was trying to go back to sleep. He couldn’t get comfortable. The bed was nice and the sheets were definitely expensive and well-made, but it wasn’t  _his_ bed and it wasn’t  _his_  room and this house sounded different than his did. It was like Dalton all over again, except this time Kurt  _knew_  all he would have to do is crawl into bed with Blaine and he’d be sound asleep within minutes.   
  
Okay, so maybe not, since Blaine was being such a tease and all. Really? Blaine couldn’t court him properly _and_  have sex?   
  
Covering his face with one of the (are these real feathers?) pillows, it occurred to Kurt that life would be much easier if he was dating a less mature man. Or at least a less stubborn one. Blaine might have a really good point about them and their relationship, one that Kurt even agreed with, but right now? At this moment in time? All Kurt wanted was to smack the good intentions out of Blaine, suck his cock until they both fucking came, and then curl up with his boyfriend to get a good night’s sleep.   
  
And none of that was going to happen. Fuck Kurt’s life.

  



	4. Chapter 4

Blaine sighed as he heard his parents talking at the bottom of the stairs as they came in from the party they had attended. He knew that if they were back, it had to be around one in the morning, if not later. He sat up slightly as the door to his room opened, his mother peeking in the door slightly. She smiled slightly as she saw he was awake, coming in and sitting down on his bed gracefully.   
  
"Hey Mom," he said softly, automatically leaning forward to give her a hug. "How was the party? Did Dad get any important business done?" He asked, more out politeness than an actual need to know. He smiled as his mother chuckled and smoothed some of his hair out of his face.   
  
"Your father? Get business done when there's wine tasting to be done? Not hardly." She smiled, winking at him. "I, however, got quite a bit of work done, including getting Kurt set up with a membership to our country club. You really need to stop by sometime soon, sweetheart, no one there has seen you in ages... Erica Montgomery, you remember her? Her husband handles your father's international affairs when he can't? Anyways, she said to tell you that she's absolutely thrilled to hear about your engagement and that she insists on meeting Kurt as soon as possible."    
  
"Mom, we're not even really engaged, yet." He said, sighing softly. "Just because you gave him Grandma's handgun, which was way out of line, by the way...That doesn't make it official yet. I mean, we've talked, and we know that's where this is headed, but..." He sighed again, shrugging. "I just...I want to date him first and marry him second, Mom.  I don't want to just steamroll over everything in his life--I want to start becoming a part of it little by little."   
  
Melissa smiled softly, patting Blaine's shoulder gently. "He's done more of a number on you than I thought.  What happened to my son who got kicked out of the school play for not being able to wait his turn to say his lines?"   
  
Blaine blushed, shaking his head. "That was first grade, Mom...Not fair." When it became clear that his mother was waiting for a real answer, he thought, smiling as he thought of the talk that he and Kurt had had earlier in the day. "I guess...We both know it's going to happen, so why rush it? I don't want to skip learning about him just to get to the good stuff." He chuckled, smiling softer than before. "Learning about him _is_  the good stuff, actually."   
  
"So that's why he's down the hall, tossing and turning?" His mother asked, raising an eyebrow at him slightly. "Sweetheart, you can take things slow without putting on the brakes altogether..." She laughed at Blaine's look of confusion. "I'm not telling you to have sex right this instant or anything like that by any means...But it's one in the morning and neither of you can sleep. That must mean something." She smiled, kissing Blaine's forehead and standing up.   
  
"Mom?" Blaine asked, looking up at her and smiling widely. "Kurt reminds me of you in a lot of ways...Well, I mean, he can cook, so that's different, but...Yeah." He finished lamely, smiling at her. "He's got me as wrapped up for him as Dad is for you," he added softly, nodding at his bedroom door where his father was standing quietly.   
  
She smiled, patting Blaine's shoulder gently. "Just think of how wrapped up you'll be by the time you've been married for twenty years like your father and I have been..." Blaine laughed softly and nodded, getting lost in thought at the idea of just how head over heels he would be for Kurt in twenty years.   
  
Melissa laughed, ruffling his hair gently before heading to the door and taking her husband's arm. "You didn't need to wait for me, Daniel. I can manage to get from our son's room to our own perfectly fine on my own." She said, mock glaring at him.   
  
"And miss getting to see you be even more brilliant than you already are, darling? Never." Daniel said, smiling at his wife widely ( _So that's where I get that dopey grin from_ , Blaine thought as he watched). "Besides, while you may be able to make it on your own, I might get lost without you. We wouldn't want to risk that, would we?"   
  
She sighed playfully, leaning her head on his shoulder as they started to walk down the hall. "Of course we wouldn't, dear. We wouldn't want to lose the man who holds the gun and looks handsome...We wouldn't have anything to put on the recruitment posters..."   
  
Blaine watched them leave, smiling and pulling out his phone. _Can't sleep. Come cuddle with me? You can be the little spoon..._   
  
Down the hall, Kurt sat up as his phone vibrated. Reading the text, he smiled and sent back a reply.   
  
_How does this work amidst the idea of "taking it slow", Blaine? Also, don't think you can butter me up with your promises of little spoon privileges._   
  
_Taking it slow =/= putting on the brakes_ , Blaine texted quickly. _I'll be down in a minute to walk with you, Little Spoon :)  
  
One, that is not going to be a nickname, I'm telling you now. Two, I can make it from this room to yours on my own, Blaine. It's thirty feet at the most.  
_   
_I'm sure you can make it, baby...I just don't wanna miss seeing any more of you than I already have._   
  
Kurt read the text, rolling his eyes and smiling widely.   
  
_Fine, you sap. I'll be waiting at the door for my gentleman caller to arrive.  
_   
Blaine smiled, setting down his phone and getting out of bed quickly. Apparently he was going to get some sleep tonight after all.   
  
Kurt met Blaine at the door. Blaine was smiling, but not one of his usual smiles: not the practiced polite smile for any occasion, not the smug smirk that irritated Kurt no end, and not his somewhat dopey wide grin that Kurt liked best because it meant Blaine was truly happy. This smile was a quieter, almost shy smile.   
  
Kurt had seen this smile before, and quite a few times this day alone, but it never stopped giving him a thrill. This smile? Was only for Kurt. It was like a secret. Every time Kurt saw this particular smile of Blaine’s, it felt like Blaine was saying “I love you” all over again.   
  
“Hi,” Kurt said, inanely.   
  
Blaine’s smile widened to a grin. “Hi,” he said back.   
  
“I love you, you know,” Kurt said. He hadn’t really meant to; it just sort of came out.   
  
Blaine brushed his hand against Kurt’s cheek. “And that makes me the luckiest man alive,” he said quietly.   
  
Kurt rolled his eyes, breaking the moment. Kurt was romantic, to be sure, and he cried during  _A  
Walk to Remember_ , but Blaine took romantic to a whole new level. It wasn’t that Kurt  _didn’t_ like it when Blaine said such ridiculously romantic things, what made Kurt uneasy was that he  _did_  like it.   
  
And now he knew what song he’d be singing in Glee this week. “Communication,” Mr. Schue had said. “Communication is one of the most important things in this world. It’s what keeps friendships alive, wars from starting blah blah blah” Okay, so maybe Kurt had stopped paying attention for a while, but really, Mr. Schue could just go on and on. “…So this week, your assignment is to find a song that  _communicates_  a specific message to someone. Something that means something to you, blah blah blah…”   
  
Damn it, Kurt thought. It was the perfect song, but no one would ever let him live it down.   
  
“Penny for your thoughts?” Blaine said, breaking into Kurt’s internal dispute.   
  
“Oh, nothing,” Kurt said airily. Then he grabbed Blaine’s hand and started to pull him down the hall. “Just thinking about getting my very attractive boyfriend into bed with me,” he tossed over his shoulder.   
  
“To sleep!” Blaine said, stumbling a little.   
  
“Of course,” Kurt said. He turned to face Blaine, eyes widening in a way he knew made him look so very young and innocent. “What did you think I meant?”    
  
Blaine stared at him, then punched him in the shoulder. Lightly, so it wouldn’t hurt, but hard enough for Kurt to feel it. “You,” Blaine said, pulling Kurt closer and kissing him, “Are.” (kiss) “An absolute.” (kiss) “Tease.” (kiss)   
  
“I try,” Kurt said breathlessly into Blaine’s mouth. He would’ve kissed Blaine again, but his boyfriend made a slightly strangled sound and pulled back. “Slow,” Blaine said quickly, like he was trying to remind himself. “We’re going slow.”   
  
Kurt stepped back into Blaine’s space, winding his arms around Blaine’s neck. “I agreed to let you woo me,” Kurt said. Leaning forward a little, he said directly into Blaine’s ear: “I never said I wouldn’t try to speed things up.” Kurt lingered there a moment longer than was really necessary, but the shudder that had gone through Blaine’s body when Kurt breathed on his ear was really hot and Kurt wanted to make him do that again. Pulling back, he walked to Blaine’s bedroom door. Blaine seemed frozen in place. Kurt smirked a little to himself as he leaned against the door frame. “Honey?”    
  
“Yeah, baby?” Blaine replied, still somewhat dazed. God, this taking things slow thing was going to fucking  _kill_  him.   
  
“Come to bed.”_   
  
Blaine blinked, trying to get his brain caught up to the rest of him. Unfortunately, it was still caught up on the fact that Kurt was standing in the door to his room, telling him to come to bed like it was something simple that they did every night. Like he hadn't just tilted Blaine's world on its side.   
  
Kurt sighed fondly from the doorway, pushing himself off and walking back to Blaine, taking his hand gently. "You know I'm just giving you a hard time, right? If you don't want me to push us going slow, I won't...I'll have to take a thousand cold showers, which will be horrible for my skin, but still...   
  
Blaine shook his head, looking Kurt in the eye and smiling softly as he got himself together. "Do your best at trying to speed me up, baby. I've got willpower like steel. You could dance around in a towel for the next month and won't get more than a kiss on the cheek from me."   
  
Kurt snorted, turning and heading back towards Blaine's room, pulling the other boy along with him gently. "More like steel wool, honey. Remember the time you tried to give up coffee and only managed to go half a day?"   
  
"I was shaking! That's different!" Blaine insisted, following Kurt in to his room and shutting the door behind him. "As in love with you as I am, I doubt I'm going to get withdrawal symptoms from not getting in your pants." He raised his eyebrows at Kurt, smirking haughtily.   
  
"Whatever you say, honey..." Kurt said, laughing softly, letting go of Blaine's hand and climbing on to the bed slowly, making sure to elongate his spine as sensually as he could. Pausing halfway to his side of the bed, he looked over his shoulder at Blaine, raising an eyebrow. "Coming?"   
  
"If you keep that up, yeah..." Blaine said softly, not realizing what he had said until Kurt started laughing. "I mean...I...Damn it, Kurt. Just get in bed." He said, blushing and swatting at Kurt's foot playfully. Climbing in next to him, Blaine rolled on to his side, automatically holding his arms out to Kurt. "I do believe I promised you the little spoon spot, baby..."   
  
Kurt smiled and nodded, shuffling closer to Blaine and kissing him gently. "You did, and I'd be a fool to pass that up." He turned so that his back was pressed against Blaine's chest, sighing in contentment and feeling at peace enough to sleep for the first time that night. "Goodnight, Blaine...Love you..." He murmured, falling asleep almost instantly.   
  
Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist tightly and cuddled closer, kissing his boyfriend's shoulder gently. "Love you too, Kurt. Sweet dreams." He smiled, waiting until he was sure Kurt was asleep before letting himself drift off as well.   
  
They both overslept the next day, and ended up having to rush about to make it to school on time. Kurt had said he’d start the car, and Blaine wasn’t a guy to get fussed about his boyfriend driving him, so before Blaine left the house, he took the extra minute and ducked into the kitchen to say goodbye (and hello) to his mother.    
  
“Sleep well?” his mother asked with an arched eyebrow.   
  
“Very,” Blaine said unthinkingly. “I mean—yes. I slept well.” His mother was clearly amused at the way Blaine was tripping all over himself, but at least she was doing him the courtesy of not actually laughing. “Actually, Mom, I wanted to ask—not that I don’t love sleeping with Kurt—I mean, that’s not what I—not that we’re—um. Can I start again?”   
  
His mother’s eyes were sparkling with suppressed laughter. “Please, do,” she said.   
  
Blaine sighed. “Kurt—he has trouble sleeping in strange places. And I really do want him to spend more time here, so you all can really get to know him, and it’s not like Mr. Hummel’s ever going to let me spend the night no matter how surprisingly okay he is with my making out with his son and—”   
  
“Blaine,” his mother interrupted. “Breathe.” Blaine took a deep breath. His mother pursed her lips a little in a considering fashion. “Take some photos of his bedroom and send them to me. I’ll have his room here set up similarly.” She looked at Blaine. “I assume that was the question you were trying to ask, dear?”   
  
“Yeah,” Blaine said slowly. Man, first Kurt and now his mother—was there no one Blaine loved who couldn’t practically read his mind? It’s not like he could hide things from his father either. Emma. Emma couldn’t, but she was seven. That probably didn’t count.   
  
His mother nodded decisively. “Then it’s settled,” she said, turning back to her newspaper. “Have a good day at school, dear. Oh, and you can go to glee club today, which I’m sure you’ll be glad of; your father will be too busy this afternoon to go over things with you.”   
  
Melissa smiled as her son gave her a quick half-hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Mom,” Blaine said. “I love you.”   
  
“I love you too, sweetheart. Now go; you’re going to be late for school.”   
  
***   
  
"So...What's up?" Mercedes asked, linking her arm with Kurt's as soon as he came out of his first period classroom. "I mean, I get a phone call from you that you're ditching school for the rest of the day, nobody's seen Blaine since Tuesday, and you sent me like, twenty-seven texts sometime last night that didn't have anything but a smiley face." She stopped him as they reached their lockers, standing in front of him and crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Spill it, white boy."   
  
Kurt smiled, shrugging and stepping around Mercedes to get to his locker. "Let's just say that certain things have happened, and that I am now more invested in my relationship than ever. And that I have a boyfriend who is very fluent in French."   
  
Mercedes blinked at him in confusion. "Blaine's not taking French, Kurt. He's in Spanish 5 with m--OH MY GOD, YOU DIDN'T?!" She said loudly, her eyes wide. "Tell me you did not get in mob boy's pants, Kurt Hummel."   
  
Kurt smiled softly, which was so different from his usual smirk it caused Mercedes to do a double-take. "No," he said, opening his locker, "I didn't "get into his pants," as it were. We just ..." He trailed off as a small box fell out of his locker and on to the floor. "What the hell?" He bent down, picking up the box and smiling as he saw his name scrawled on the front in Blaine's messy handwriting. Smiling at Mercedes widely, he held up the box.   
  
"Blaine?" Mercedes asked, rolling her eyes as Kurt nodded. "What is it? I mean, he already gave you a gun, what's next? Is he gonna kick it old school and give you a wooden knife?"   
  
"First of all, his mother gave me the gun, not Blaine. Second of all, no, I missed the age where you get knives in the Anderson family by about nine years," he said dismissively. "No, this is something Blaine's been planning on his own..."   
  
Opening the box slowly, he blinked as a piece of paper fell out. Picking it up and unfolding it, he smiled as he realized that Blaine had written him...well, he had written him a novel from the looks of it. Blushing slightly, he looked at Mercedes and nodded toward the empty classroom next to their row of lockers. "I’m just gonna...I'll show you later, okay 'Cedes?"    
  
She sighed playfully, gesturing for him to go. "Go on, go on...You and your man are giving me cavities, and he's not even here." She laughed, kissing him on the cheek before turning to head down the hallway. "If it's money or jewelry that you already have, I call dibs," she called over her shoulder.   
  
He laughed, ducking in to the classroom and shutting the door behind him. Perching himself on one of the desks, he unfolded the note and rolled his eyes fondly at Blaine's handwriting. "It must be love if I'm putting up with his chicken scratch..." He mumbled to himself, smiling widely as he started to read.   
  
_Dear Kurt,  
  
I was going to tell you this in person, but...well, I guess I wanted to be romantic and write you an actual letter (stop rolling your eyes and comparing me to "The Notebook", Kurt). I've been told that I ramble when I write, so bear with me (I don't have any doubt that you will...You put up with me any other time, why would now be any different?).  
  
So, back when my dad was in training to take over, and he was dating my mom, she would plan all these big, elaborate dates for them to go on (she likes a little pomp and circumstance, in case you haven't noticed. Be prepared for a throw down if you decide that you don't want an actual wedding). Anyways, she'd plan these massive dates, with flowers and balloons and candles and everything like that...And then dad would get pulled in to another "meeting" and he'd have to miss it. Needless to say, mom was pissed. Every time.  
  
Anyways, dad came up with this plan to keep mom from completely flipping out on him every time he had to miss a date: Every time he had to miss a date, he'd send mom a vase of her favorite flowers in apology. According to mom, he did it because he didn't want to lose her. Dad says it's because he didn't want to lose an eye from her throwing another set of cutlery at him. I have to agree with him and while I would hope that my gorgeous, loving, perfect angel of a boyfriend wouldn't throw knives at me, I did recently find out that he packs a mean punch, and I don't want to repeat the experience. (Seriously. I have a bruise on the back on my head from yesterday, you meanie. I would say that I want you to kiss it and make it better, but we both know that already happened, so...)  
  
So, taking from my father's brilliant method of self-preservation, I decided to steal his idea and make it my own. I know you're not really the flower type, plus it'd be really difficult to sneak them in to your locker before class in the morning (plus, I'm pretty sure your hair-spray collection would kill them), so instead of flowers, I decided to go with something more suiting to your tastes: Jewelry. Lapel pins, to be specific. I still remember the zebra one you wore your first day at Dalton. I thought that it was so...You. Something normal and typical that you managed to turn on its ear and make ten times better.  
  
Kind of like you do with me.  
  
Anyways, since I forgot to tell you about the meeting I had the other day, and thereby missed getting to hang out with you after school, consider this my first (of what I'm sure will be many, unfortunately) apology gifts. You don't have to wear it if you don't like it; I just wanted you to have it and to know that even if I have to skip out on you from time to time, you're still the most important thing I've got in my life.  
  
Anyways, I'm going to shut up now so that you can get to class. Love you, baby.  
  
-Your pre-fiancé/Creepy McCreeperson/Honey/Blaine  
_   
Kurt smiled, moving the tissue paper in the box to reveal an oval shaped lapel pin made up of a single baby blue stone. Smiling softly, he pulled it out of the box, gasping as the color changed to a light green as it was angled toward the light. Biting his lip slightly, he looked down at his outfit, sighing in relief when he saw that he could wear the pin without it clashing (he loved Blaine, and the lapel pin was gorgeous, but he'd be damned if he willingly clashed his clothing for anyone). Pinning it to his jacket as the bell rang, he stood up, folding the note and putting it in his pocket.   
  
Pulling his phone out of his bag and putting the box in its place, he walked out of the room, not shocked to see Anthony standing guard outside of the door. He nodded at the bodyguard, sliding out the keyboard on his phone as he started toward his first class.   
  
_You're a long winded sap who probably spent way too much money on this lapel pin. -K._   
  
He got to class just as the bell rang, sliding in to his seat with a murmured apology. Feeling his phone vibrate, he waited until the morning announcements started to pull it out and check his missed text.   
  
_I love you too, baby. Glad you like it. I'll see you at lunch. -B._   
  
***   
  
Blaine had been smiling like an idiot since he had woken up that morning. It wasn't just the fact that he had woken up to Kurt's head resting on his chest (though that had cemented itself in Blaine's mind under 'Most Amazing Thing Ever'), or the fact that his mom was completely alright with giving Kurt his own room at their house (which meant she was okay with Kurt spending the night more often, which was awesome), or even the fact that Kurt had been walking around wearing his new lapel pin all day (the possessive part of Blaine's mind got a thrill every time he saw it, if he was being honest). No, what really had Blaine excited was that he had finally figured out what he would be singing as part of his glee club assignment this week.   
  
He had heard Mr. Schue start his lesson about communication at the beginning of the week, but had pretty much tuned the teacher out after getting the gist of what the assignment entailed (he had tried, but at some point Kurt had shifted closer and laid his head on Blaine's shoulder, and anyone who could pay attention to Will Schuester over Kurt Hummel clearly needed to think about their priorities). He got the point of the lesson, however, so he wasn't worried. Sing a message to someone to explain something you felt about your situation with them. Piece of cake.   
  
He knew he was going to be singing to Kurt. He even knew that it was going to be something ridiculous and sappy, even if it meant making the rest of the guys in New Directions look bad in comparison (a complaint he had gotten two weeks ago when he had shown up to practice with two tickets to see the touring production of Hairspray that Friday night. Kurt had been ecstatic, and hadn't stopped gushing about it for a week, which made the ladies of New Directions realize that their men weren't exactly stepping up to the plate in terms of romance. Finn and the boys hadn't heard the end of it since then). He just hadn't been able to pin down a song until he had been out of town with his dad.   
  
They had been watching a movie in their hotel room, talking casually about whatever crossed their mind, when Blaine had sat up, looking at his dad curiously. "When did you know that you and mom were gonna get married?" He'd asked before he could stop himself. "Not like, when you liked her and were dating her, but like...I don't know..." He finished lamely, shrugging slightly.   
  
"When did I realize that I was willing to let her boss me around for the rest of my life?" His father asked, chuckling slightly before pausing to think. "When I could read a note that she'd written me....Just a couple of sentences, sometimes not even that...And know whether she was happy or faking happiness, mad or pretending to be mad to be funny. I didn't have to hear her voice or see her face to be able to read her like a book."   
  
Blaine had smiled, about to respond when his phone had lit up with a text from Kurt, asking if he was still awake. He had skimmed over it, noting that while Kurt made it seem like no big deal if he was asleep, he obviously had something that he wanted to talk about that had him worked up. Half way through his reply, he had stopped, smiling to himself as he realized that he could read Kurt's feelings through a text message.   
  
(To be fair, he was pretty sure Kurt could read him with nothing at all to go off of, but his boyfriend was kind of ridiculous levels of intuitive like that, so he wasn't really upset.)   
  
He had spent the rest of the night after Kurt's phone call looking up song after song, trying to find one that would work to get across what he was trying to say. Just when he had almost given up, Wes had sent him a link to a song on Youtube that he wanted Blaine's opinion on for the Warbler's Valentine's Day singing telegrams (because apparently, just because Blaine was in a rival glee club didn't mean Wes couldn't pick his brain from time to time). Looking over the song, Blaine had realized that, while the song may not work for the Warblers, it was going to work out perfectly for him. He wasn't even shocked that he hadn't thought of it automatically, considering it wasn't exactly part of his wheelhouse.   
  
"Blaine? Hellooo? Anybody home? Fine, I'm just gonna go break up with you and make out with Puck, since you clearly don't care..." Blaine heard as he pulled himself out of his thoughts. While he had been daydreaming, his feet had lead him to the choir room for New Directions practice, where Kurt had clearly been waiting to talk to him if the annoyed look on his face was anything to go by.   
  
"I'm sorry, baby. Got lost in my head for a minute. What were you telling me?" Blaine said, taking Kurt's hand and lacing their fingers together gently. "I like that lapel pin, by the way...Somebody's got good taste."   
  
Kurt rolled his eyes even as he squeezed Blaine's hand. "That's what I was talking about, actually...You don't need to get me something every time you're gone." Blaine watched as Kurt shrugged, blushing slightly. "I don't need that...Just make it up to me when you can."   
  
Blaine frowned slightly, pulling Kurt closer and wrapping his arm around the taller boy's waist. "First of all, since I know you're worrying about how expensive it was, don't. That's not an issue for me, and you know it. Even if it was, I want to spend money on you because you're gorgeous, and funny, and you put up with me."    
  
He smiled, kissing Kurt's cheek gently and leading him over to the rows of chairs. "If you're going to marry me, you're going to let me spoil you, Kurt Hummel. You don't get a choice in that. Speaking of which..." He smiled, pulling away from Kurt and walking over to Mr. Schue, talking to him quietly for a second before nodding and walking over to the piano.   
  
"Alright guys, settle down," Mr. Schue said as the bell rang. "So, as you guys know, this week's assignment is all about Communication, delivering a message through song. Blaine's ready to give it a shot, so I want everybody to listen. See if you can understand the message of his song, okay?" He waited for the group's acknowledgement, then nodded at Blaine. "Take it away."   
  
Blaine nodded, stepping up to address his classmates. "I'm not going to lie, this is probably going to be the easiest communication to understand since the invention of the English language, but it does get across a message that's extremely important to me, so...I hope other people understand its importance as well." He smiled, winking at Kurt before moving to sit down at the piano. He took a second to arrange his sheet music (and to get rid of some of the shaking in his hands, but that was irrelevant), then started to play softly.

 

_  
If there were no words  
No way to speak   
I would still hear you _

_If there were no tears  
No way to feel inside   
I'd still feel for you _

_And even if the sun refused to shine  
Even if romance ran out of rhyme   
You would still have my heart   
Until the end of time   
You're all i need   
My love, my valentine _

_All of my life  
I have been waiting for   
All you give to me   
You've opened my eyes   
And showed me how to love unselfishly _

_I've dreamed of this a thousand times before  
In my dreams i couldnt love you more   
I will give you my heart   
Until the end of time   
You're all i need   
My love, my valentine _

_La da da  
Da da da da _

_And even if the sun refused to shine  
Even if romance ran out of rhyme   
You would still have my heart   
Until the end of time   
'Cause all i need   
Is you, my valentine _

_You're all i need  
My love, my valentine_

  
Blaine stood up as his classmates applauded, walking over to where Kurt was sitting and smiling at him nervously. "So..." He trailed off, not really sure what to say, especially since their classmates were (not-so-subtly) watching and waiting for Kurt's reaction as well.   
  
Kurt sniffled slightly and wiped at his eyes from where they had teared up before looking at Blaine. "You really are a long winded sap, you know..." He said, smiling softly. "And you're a show off...I mean really, singing and playing the piano? Are you going to juggle fire for your next act?" As the rest of New Directions laughed, Kurt took Blaine's hand, pulling him down in to the seat next to him.    
  
While Finn got set up for his performance, which Blaine knew was going to be "Mr. Roboto" (he had gotten a migraine trying to figure out what the hell that was going to communicate), he leaned his head on Kurt's shoulder. "So..." He whispered softly, looking up at Kurt nervously. "Now that we don't have an audience...Be honest."   
  
"It was gorgeous. Unexpected, but gorgeous. Thank you," Kurt added softly, squeezing Blaine's hand gently. "You didn't have to sing to me...It means a lot more than you know."   
  
Blaine looked at him confusedly. Who else would he have sang to? For that matter, why did Kurt think that Mercedes wasn't going to sing something for him, since the two were best friends? Just as he was about to ask, the band started playing the intro to Finn's song, and Kurt shushed him gently.   
  
Halfway through (as Finn made a horrific attempt at The Robot), Kurt tilted his head down, so that he was whispering directly against Blaine's ear.   
  
"Though, compared to your song, mine's going to look extremely masculine...I guess I should thank you in advance."   
  
***   
  
Rachel’s song, unsurprisingly, was overblown and romantic and sung directly to Finn. Kurt suspected Finn would be in a great deal of trouble later for not properly reciprocating. Puck sang about wanting to have sex, which made Mr. Schue look like he wished he was anywhere else, but really, what had he expected from Puck?   
  
In a disconcerting move that made  _everyone_  feel uncomfortable, Brittany performed “Secret” by Missy Higgins. It wasn’t as though everyone didn’t know that she and Santana were involved in some sort of relationship (hello, wasn’t that why she and Artie broke up last year?), but this song had a much clearer message than anyone expected from Brittany and Santana kind of looked like she wanted to cut a bitch, so Mr. Schue quickly thanked Brittany for her performance and sent her back to her seat.   
  
“Okay!” Mr. Schue said, clapping his hands together. “These are all  _great_ , guys. Just  _great_ . I’m really impressed. Unfortunately, we only have time for one more song today, but I promise, the rest of you will get a chance to share too.”   
  
Kurt took a deep breath and raised his hand. “Mr. Schuester? I’d like to sing today, if that’s alright.”   
  
“Of course!” Mr. Schue waved Kurt up to the front of the room. “You can be our grand finale.”   
  
Kurt gulped in another deep breath. He’d never really been nervous before, singing in front of an audience. Even singing that ill-advised song to Finn back during his stupid infatuated-with-the-straight-person phase hadn’t made him feel this lightheaded. Of course, it wasn’t just having all of New Directions looking at him expectantly (or bored out of their minds) that was making him nervous, although standing up here, Kurt wasn’t sure that they were the best audience to listen to him confess his love to Blaine through song. Blaine was looking at him as if Kurt was amazing and perfect and—   
  
Kurt opened his mouth and began to sing.   


_I had no choice  
but to hear you.  
you stated your case  
time and again_

  
Even the bored members of New Directions were visibly paying attention now, having recognized the song.   
  


_I thought about it_

Kurt continued, altering the next line so it fit.

_you treat me like  
I’m a prince and  
I’m not used to liking that  
you ask how my day was_

  
Kurt smiled sheepishly at Blaine and went into the chorus.

_  
you’ve already won me over  
in spite of me  
and don’t be alarmed if I fall  
head over feet  
and don’t be surprised   
if I love you  
for all that you are  
I couldn’t help it  
it’s all your fault_

__

Kurt couldn’t help how strongly the emotions came through on the “it’s all your fault.” Sometimes he got so angry at what Blaine had done to him. How could Blaine make him fall this in love with him?   
  


_your love is thick  
and it swallowed me whole  
you’re so much braver  
than I gave you credit for_

Blaine was so much braver than Kurt, even though he seemed to think otherwise.

_that’s not lip service_

Kurt added, singing directly to Blaine.   
  
Who was staring at him with this incredible, awestruck look on his face. Kurt sucked in a quick breath and continued with the chorus.   


_you’ve already won me over  
in spite of me  
and don’t be alarmed if I fall  
head over feet  
and don’t be surprised   
if I love you  
for all that you are  
I couldn’t help it  
it’s all your fault_

_you are the bearer  
of unconditional things_

Kurt sang, thinking about how true the next line was.

_you held your breath  
and the door for me  
thanks for your patience_

  
Thank you, Kurt thought, thank you so so much. From the way Blaine was smiling back at him now, Blaine thought much the same. As the background instrumentation took the forefront for a brief time, Kurt couldn’t help but mouth “I love you” at Blaine. He immediately felt like an idiot for doing so in front of New Directions, but then Blaine was mouthing it back, a foolish grin on his face, and Kurt didn’t care anymore.   
  


_you’re the best listener  
that I’ve ever met  
you’re my best friend_

He really was. Even more so than Mercedes, in some ways.

_best friend with benefits  
what took me so long_

_I’ve never felt  
this healthy before  
I’ve never wanted  
something rational  
I am aware now_

Kurt was aware now. So, so aware.

_I am aware now_

This was meant to be.   
  
He went into the chorus again.   


_  
you’ve already won me over  
in spite of me  
and don’t be alarmed if I fall  
head over feet  
and don’t be surprised   
if I love you  
for all that you are  
I couldn’t help it  
it’s all your fault_

  
Once more.   


_you’ve already won me over  
in spite of me  
and don’t be alarmed if I fall  
head over feet  
and don’t be surprised   
if I love you  
for all that you are  
I couldn’t help it  
it’s all your fault_

__

 

__

The next bit was just vowel sounds following the melody, and then the ending line, which Kurt sang with every fiber of his being.   


_I couldn’t help it  
it’s all your fault_

__

 

__

Kurt fell silent, panting a little from lack of breath. Next thing he knew, Blaine was giving him a soul-searing back-bending incredibly thorough kiss that probably belonged in a movie (hello, this is titantic? we’d like our kissing scene back.). And Kurt’s hands were up in Blaine’s hair and all he had to do was twist just a little and oh that was better and Blaine was even closer and it felt like Blaine might devour him whole and Kurt wanted him to…   
  
“Well,” Mr. Schue coughed loudly. “That was a … wonderful performance, Kurt. Well done,” he said, staring at the kissing teens helplessly. “And now, um. Glee club is dismissed.”   
  
The two boys gave no indication of having heard him, which cracked up the boys of New Directions (okay, and Santana) and made all the girls sigh about how romantic it was when really? Will thought it had way more to do with the amount of hormones being pumped through teenage bodies and oh God he had to deal with this, didn’t he?   
  
Sighing and wondering how this was his life, Will pulled the two boys apart. “Glee’s over, guys. Time to go home.”   
  
Kurt turned an unbelievable shade of red, but Blaine seemed as blasé as ever. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Schue,” he said cheerfully, tugging Kurt behind him as he grabbed their bags. The other members of New Directions were gone (thank God) but Will still didn’t manage to find his voice again until the two boys were almost out the door.    
  
“Guys?” he said, hoping his voice wouldn’t break. “I appreciate how much you two … care for each other, and those songs … well, they were definitely communicative, um … but that sort of PDA is inappropriate for a school setting.”   
  
Kurt pulled away from Blaine and turned to face Mr. Schue, face hard. “Why? Because we’re two guys kissing?” Kurt said sharply.    
  
Will blinked. Okay, he guessed he probably deserved that, with the homophobia the boys faced every day. “No,” he said slowly, “Because Blaine’s tongue was so far down your throat I was worried you wouldn’t be able to sing  _next_ week.”   
  
Kurt went red again. “Oh,” he said quietly.   
  
Blaine wrapped an arm around his boyfriend. “Understood, Mr. Schue,” he said calmly. “We’ll try to control ourselves.”   
  
Will was pretty sure there was an undertone to that statement that he didn’t want to examine too closely, but now they were leaving and his duty was done and dear god, he needed to hear some Journey.   
  
***   
  
Blaine walked Kurt to his car like a gentleman, although he did kiss him goodbye in a less-than-gentlemanly fashion, but fuck, Kurt singing to him had been amazing.   
  
Finn coughed awkwardly from behind them. “Um. Kurt? We kinda need to go home now.”   
  
“Just a minute,” Kurt said absently, leaning forward to kiss Blaine again.   
  
“Kurt.” Finn’s voice was stronger now, cutting through the haze of desire. He sounded a little annoyed.   
  
Kurt sighed in exasperation and pulled back from Blaine. “Finn, do I cockblock you with Rachel?” he asked acerbically.   
  
Finn blinked. “Um, yeah,” he said. “All the time.”   
  
Right. Kurt had forgotten that. He glared at Blaine when he realized the odd look on his boyfriend’s face was the look of a man desperately trying to avoid showing any amusement.    
  
Blaine gave it up and laughed a little. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kurt,” he said, leaning in and landing a short, sweet kiss on the corner of Kurt’s mouth. “Love you, baby,” he whispered.   
  
“Love you too,” Kurt whispered back.   
  
Then Blaine had pulled back and – was he saluting Finn? Sometimes Kurt had no idea what went through his boyfriend’s head.    
  
Kurt sighed as he watched Blaine leave. Finn’s voice interrupted his reverie. “So, you’re really, like, in love with him, aren’t you?”   
  
“Yeah,” Kurt admitted. “I really am.”   
  
Finn awkwardly patted Kurt on the shoulder. “That’s really cool, dude. I’m happy for you.” And he sounded happy for Kurt. But Kurt could still hear an unspoken ‘but’ hanging behind Finn’s words.   
  
“What?” Kurt asked, turning to face Finn.   
  
Finn looked a little panicked at Kurt’s question. “Nothing!” he said quickly.   
  
Kurt raised an eyebrow.   
  
“Okay,” Finn admitted, “So I just was wondering – does this mean you’re going to get kidnapped a lot? Because I don’t think anyone’s going to be very happy about that.”   
  
Kurt laughed. And laughed. And then, impulsively, he hugged Finn. He couldn’t help it. Finn was silly and bothersome and so earnest in everything he did and Kurt was so, so glad they were brothers. “No,” Kurt said, finally, trying to stop laughing. At least Finn didn’t look offended or hurt anymore, not since Kurt had hugged him. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”   
  
Finn grinned with relief. “Oh, good,” he said, “Because I really don’t want to have that conversation with your dad again even if he did know what was going on when none of us did.”   
  
Kurt laughed again, a clear, high sound. “C’mon,” he said, pulling the driver-side door open. “Let’s go home, ‘Big’ Brother.”   
  
THE END (for now…) 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
